


Life After Death

by Kalina_E



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Cap-centric, Fluff, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I accidentally talk about dead bodies for a bit, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Starts from Cap's death, The Captain is Gay (Ghosts TV 2019), Thomas and Isabelle are only mentioned, as a treat, but I do love them, dead bodies, endgame patcap, eventually, hand holding, i'll probably update these as i go, it's all in the hands guys, only a little bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalina_E/pseuds/Kalina_E
Summary: "He looked quite peaceful, the lines of his face softened by rest.He knew he was dead of course."The Captain always thought that life ended when you died- turns out it actually begins.
Relationships: Isabelle Higham/Thomas Thorne, Pat Butcher/The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very nervous to start posting this, but I'm hoping that it'll make me commit to actually finishing it. I hope you enjoy!

It was a strange thing. To stand at his own bedside while simultaneously laying in the aforementioned bed. So strange that the Captain found it quite impossible to tear his gaze away. He- or at least the version of him in the bed- looked quite peaceful, the lines of his face softened by rest. 

He knew he was dead of course.

Other than the fact that he was standing quite apart from his body, he could see the way his chest failed to rise and fall, the way his hands that had been resting over his belly were quite slack around the swagger stick, and the way his skin was a pale, ashy grey.

The Captain wondered if perhaps he should be more distraught- he’d only lay down for a moment shutting his eyes and hoping that the stabbing pains he felt up his back all day would abate before supper- but instead he felt quite bereft of any emotion.

“Oh, see Mary! I just knew he would stay!”

“Ah yes, yous was right Miss Kitty.”

The Captain turned, finally finding himself able to look away from his own waxy figure to instead see two women who had been stood behind him for lord knows how long. One was a dark-skinned woman in a fancy, although terribly old fashioned, burgundy dress who was grinning and waving at him bashfully. The other was dressed far more simply, in yellows and blues which seemed to be covered in soot. Both seemed utterly out of time, which only further cemented that the Captain was indeed dead.

The Captain cleared his throat, mustering himself to stand up straight, clasping his hands behind his back, “I- You had better explain to me what’s going on this instant!”

The two women exchanged glances before turning back to him and the fancy one- Kitty, which must surely be short for Katherine- said, “Well… You’re dead.”

It was one thing to know he was dead, but to hear is said aloud made the Captain grimace, “I am well aware of that. I demand to know why I’m stuck here,” The two ladies started to open their mouths before he continued on, “And furthermore, who the bally hell are you two?”

“How terribly rude of us! All my friends call me Kitty, and I just know that we’re going to be the best of friends!” Kitty bobbed a curtsy, gigging as she did so.

“And I be Mary. And I’m afraids you’re stuck heres with the rests of us.” The Captain winced at the butchering of the English language but decided against commenting on it for the moment- best to gather as much information as possible before charging into battle.

Hands white-knuckled around the swagger stick, the Captain asked, “There are more of you? How many?”

And before he could ask another question, Kitty squealed, “Oh, I’ll go get them!” And rushed off through the door. The sight made the Captain’s stomach swoop, and his mind took a few moments to realise why.

Not through the doorway. Through the door.

He gathered he must have looked in some state of shock as the soot-covered woman- Mary- said, “You gets used to it quickly.” She seemed to pause to think for a moment, and the Captain was certain he could hear the faint sound of shouting somewhere off at the other end of the house, “I thought for sures you was going to get sucked off.”

For a second, the Captain’s heart seemed to stop beating in his chest- although he wasn’t even sure if it was beating to begin with- before his face flushed a brilliant red and he found himself coughing in embarrassment, “I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean, and I would remind you to watch your tongue when speaking to your superiors!”

Mary didn’t seem to take too kindly to this, her docile face falling into a frown, “Yous not even been here for two shakes of a cows udder, yous can’t bes telling us whats we cans and can’t do!”

Shaking his head, the Captain, finally wondering what he was even doing, hanging around in a room with someone who was clearly crazy, strode towards the door, “I’ve had quite enough of this! I’m leaving.” Upon reaching the door, he grasped for the handle, feeling a jolt when his hand passed clean through both the handle and the door. Summoning up his courage, he walked through the door, emerging into the familiar hallway on the other side.

Behind him, he could hear Mary calling out, “You can’t leave! We be trapped here ‘til God sucks us off!”

With a grim determination, he grit his teeth and made for the exit.

"We’ll see about that."

\---

Much to the Captain’s displeasure, he soon discovered that it was true- he really was trapped. Despite numerous attempts to exit the grounds of Button House at various different points, he found he was well and truly boxed in. The thought made him panic; he spent an unknown amount of time curled up under a tree near the main exit, desperately trying to suck air into his lungs, only to realise that he didn’t even need the air, which only made him panic more.

Eventually he came to the realisation that he would have to return to the house, or else live out his life- not life, death- alone in the small woods encasing the land. Even after coming to this realisation, he spent another chunk of time finding the strength to actually return; he had run away like a coward and now, he acknowledged, he would have to swallow some of his pride to allow himself to walk back to that place.

But, after quite some time, he felt brave- or perhaps just lonely- enough to venture out of the woods and up to the front door of Button House. Raising his fist to knock, he stopped himself just before his fist would have passed through the wood. Taking in a steadying breath, he stepped through the door into the foyer. Trepidatiously he looked around, half expecting to be attacked the moment he entered.

Walking towards the stairs, he could only notice the absolute silence that filled the house; not even his footsteps made a sound anymore. Creeping up the stairs, he found himself walking to his own room, feeling like some sort of spy, sneaking around behind enemy lines. He only hesitated for a split second before pushing through the door to find-

Nothing.

His bed had been stripped bare, the bedside table cleared of his few belongings, and his bags seemingly packed and shipped off. And of course, his body was nowhere to be found.

“How long have I been gone?” He mused out loud, approaching the bed.

“Oh, I’d say near abouts two weeks.”

The Captain leapt back from the bed, brandishing his swagger stick in front of him, “Who the hell said that? I demand you show yourself at once!”

“That’s a bit hard mate, I haven’t exactly got any legs. Actually, would you mind giving me a hand?”

The Captain stared incredulously at the bed, leaning close enough to swat at the mattress with his stick. Which of course passed straight through. “Who’s talking to me right now? Where are you?”

“Ah, I’m under the bed.”

Crouching down, his knees and back cracking as he did so, the Captain peered under the bed and found himself quite unable to contain an undignified yelp at what he saw.

It was a head. A completely severed head. And it was talking to him.

“Yeah, takes a bit of getting used to, I know. If you could just grab me, that’d be great. Don’t be shy.” 

Before he could think about it for too much longer, the Captain scooted forward, extended his arm under the bed and grabbed the head, pulling it out into the light of the room. Now that it was out of the dark, he could see that it had a respectable face, with well groomed facial hair. A handsome head by all accounts.

Swallowing hard, the Captain stood, grimacing at the twinge of discomfort in his joints, “Were you… Under there the whole time?”

The head smiled, “Not while you were living in here, no. My stupid body dropped me when we all came in here to meet you. Someone must have caught me on their way out, because next thing I knew I was under the bed! I’m Humphrey by the way.”

“And how long ago did they clear… The room?” The Captain blinked hard to banish the thoughts of his body.

Humphrey twisted his mouth for a moment, as though in thought, “Well they carted you off the same day you died. And they took everything else the next day. Oh, and I think the others all left yesterday.”

The Captain blinked, staring down at the head in his hands, “You mean…”

“The other soldiers. I dunno why they left, but one bloke came in here and said a little farewell to you.”

Drawing in a steady breath, the Captain schooled his face, “Reassigned somewhere else I imagine. Probably made more sense to split them off into existing regiments than to find another captain to replace me here. Yes. Jolly good.”

For a slightly awkward amount of time, there was silence again. Just the Captain lost in thought in what used to be his bedroom, holding the head of some long dead man named Humphrey.

“Excuse me, uh, Captain,” Humphrey finally interrupted, clearing his throat, “Would you mind maybe finding my body? Or at least dropping me in a more exciting room?”

Shaking his head to rid any wishful thought, the Captain nodded, “Ah, yes. Of course. Do you know where you… Left your body?”

“Oh, he likes to wander. If you just bring me to the kitchen or something, I’m sure he’ll find me eventually. And if not, the kitchen’s usually fairly interesting anyway.”

“To the kitchen then.” And with only a brief backwards glance, the Captain left the room, striding with surer steps to the kitchen below.


	2. Chapter 2

The Captain did of course meet the rest of his housemates eventually. There was Lady Fanny Button, who seemed a tad dramatic at times but held an insistence that things be done properly, something which the Captain could respect; Thomas Thorne, who the Captain liked a great deal more before he heard him speak; and Robin. The Captain wasn’t quite sure what to make of the caveman; he could go from the wisest to the most immature member of the household in a matter of moments. He felt that perhaps they could have gotten along better were it not for him taking every given opportunity to scare him to, well, death.

For the first few weeks, the Captain could scarcely find a moment alone, always seeming to have one or two of his fellow ghosts following him around. But after the initial excitement of his arrival wore off, he found himself rather bored.

He couldn’t touch anything, he couldn’t talk to anyone living, he couldn’t even turn the radio on to keep on top of the events of the outside world. No one had returned to the house, although Fanny insisted that the Button family would return post-war, so the Captain found himself feeling quite lonely. In his life, he had almost always been surrounded by people, be it his sister and their friends growing up, his fellow soldiers in the Great War, or his regiment here at Button House, he’d always had noise and comradery.

The Captain had been surprised to find out that, outside of major events, the ghosts of Button House kept to themselves. That’s not to say they were always quiet- Kitty could often be heard singing as she skipped through the garden, and Robin would make all manner of noises at all hours of the day- but they never seemed to ‘hang out’ together.

The first time the Captain saw everyone in the same room together was when the Button’s did finally return; a lovely motorcar swung around the fountain and stopped outside the front door. Out from the car stepped an older man and woman, perhaps in their 60’s and a young woman.

“See, what did I tell you? I knew my family would return once this wretched war was over.” Fanny said smugly, craning her neck to get a better view.

The Captain’s grip on his swagger stick tightened for just a moment, “Even if this war is ‘over’, there’s always another war to be fought. The jerries will no doubt be recuperating, ready for- “

“Oh, here comes Heather!” Kitty cried, completely cutting off the Captain as she hurried forward to ‘greet’ the young woman who had just enter the house, “Doesn’t she look so pretty and grown up now!”

“Yes, it seems our flower has bloomed in the years we have been parted. Her beauty is comparable to that of the heather for which she was named. Her grace- “

“Thank you, Thomas, that’s quite enough now.” Fanny sighed, watching as they unpacked the automobile.

Much of the rest of the day passed with them trailing behind the family, the Captain eagerly listening out for any sort of news about the world outside and finding himself disappointed when much of their conversation seemed to centre around the journey back home and the horrid weather.

When they eventually retired to bed, the ghosts all made to split of in their separate ways before the Captain cleared his throat, gaining their attention.

“Before everyone scarpers back to their little corners of this house, I thought I might propose something,” A few people made like they were about to talk so he quickly continued before he could be interrupted, “Now that we have living people here with us, I believe it is in our best interests to stay on top of things. If something major is due to happen, we all ought to know about it. This is why I propose we hold weekly briefings.”

The ghosts all stared at him in silence for a beat before every single one of them descended into chaos, all talking over each other, clamouring to be heard.

“Enough of that! Quite!” The Captain called out, to little effect. He felt close to just storming off and letting go of his idea when an extraordinarily loud bellow caused everyone to fall silent once more. They all turned to look at Robin.

“Is good idea,” He said simply, nodding to the Captain, “Something to break up mono- mono- ton- mono- boring day.”

Looking around at everyone briefly, the Captain nodded firmly, “It’s settled then. Once a week, on Monday morning at 0800 hours, we will meet to discuss the goings on of the coming week. I will lead these meetings, as the ranking officer with the most experience in these things, but there will be opportunity for everyone to chip in. Any questions?”

And the ensuing resurgence of noise instantly made him regret asking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, sorry that it's shorter but next chapter we finally get to see Pat!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a Pat!   
> (Also slight warning for descriptions of his death and his body)

“Now that we are all present, I shall begin. Thank you all for attending this impromptu Saturday morning briefing.” The Captain stood before his fellow ghosts in the living room, his hands clasping his swagger stick behind his back and his posture ramrod straight. And, despite the fact that his housemates were a little more at ease than he would have ever allowed his soldiers to be, he found himself quite comfortable being able to command and inform a room. It had been many years since his first ghostly briefing and, while some people attended only grudgingly, he was pleased to note that many of them showed up promptly every Monday morning. “As I’m sure many of you are aware, last night we had some visitors arrive to Button House- “

As he cleared his throat ready to continue, he found another voice raising to interrupt him, “Absolutely disgraceful behaviour already! They have entirely ruined the lawn with their horrid green tents. I shan’t be surprised if poor Heather trips on the gargantuan holes left behind by those giant wooden pegs.”

The Captain tilted his head a little and lifted his chin, nodding just slightly as he attempted to placate her, “Now, now Fanny. I’m sure the grass will recover. As I was saying, a troop of Scouts arrived at approximately 1700 hours yesterday evening. They have situated their tents on the front lawn, as mentioned by Fanny, and as I understand it, they will be remaining on site until noon tomorrow.”

“Oh, do you think they’ll play more games? It was so much fun doing the scavenger hunt yesterday, I stayed up nearly all night looking for something blue in the woods!” Kitty beamed around at everyone, her hands waving in the air in excitement.

With a closed-lip smile, the Captain continued, “That leads me onto my next point, activities. On my morning patrol, I came upon an itinerary for this camp. As we speak, the scouts will be cooking breakfast, before moving into the woods for pioneering. As far as I can tell, this will involve the creation of an obstacle course of some description. After this, they will break for lunch before kicking off the afternoon with some archery. They will then gather wood ready for the evening campfire, before preparing and cooking dinner and then finally having their aforementioned campfire.”

“This campfire… Is that the one where they sing all those dreadful songs?” Thomas asked from his position perched on the arm of the sofa, “Last time we had Scouts here, I could hardly concentrate on my work.”

Robin’s head perked up as Thomas spoke, “I like the songs. Singing, dancing, big fire. Is like before.” Thomas seemed ready to open his mouth and complain again but stopped. None of them, not even Fanny, tried to argue against the things Robin enjoyed, especially when they related to his life, all those years ago.

Clearing his throat again to break the silence, the Captain spoke once again, “Yes, there will be singing, and I’m sure some level of dancing. I will be supervising the troop and I invite any of you who wish to join me in observing their activities. Any questions?”

“Where be the…” Mary trailed off, wincing.

The Captain waited for her to finish, but quickly realised she wasn’t going to. He looked to the group for help, and they all looked back at him quite blankly until a voice came from under the sofa.

“I think she means where’s the campfire going to be.”

“Ah, very good Humphrey. I believe that the campfire will be held behind the house, for those who wish to either attend or avoid it.” He paused for a moment, “And could someone pick Humphrey up from under the sofa?”

Robin immediately stuck his foot under the sofa, sending the head rolling out behind the sofa, where Kitty rushed to retrieve him.

“Now, if there are no more questions, you’re all dismissed.”

\---

The morning passed quite uneventfully, all things considered. The Captain, Robin, Mary, and Kitty all followed the Scout troop out into the woods, watching as they tied rope bridges and rope swings between the trees. The Captain was almost surprised to hear Mary offer so many critiques, on their knot-tying methods to their design. Kitty and Robin spent most of the time waiting impatiently for them to finish, eager to run the course themselves, despite the fact that they would simply pass through most of it. And the Captain…

The Captain spend the morning walking beside the troop’s Scoutmaster. He was sort of a strange looking fellow, short with large glasses, and a tad ridiculous in his Scout get-up. But the Captain found himself quite entranced by his perpetual cheer and his gentle leadership. He was certainly no military man, but he couldn’t help but feel that this man would make a fine ally- companion, even- nonetheless.

He spent lunch time stood behind the Scoutmaster at the leader’s table, listening in to their jokes, most of which he didn’t quite understand. He learnt that the man was called Pat.

After lunch, the Captain was pleasantly surprised to find that all the ghosts had gathered around the small archery station that had been set up. They all looked on as the Scouts lined up in front of the target, while Pat busied himself with taking the bow out of its case.

“I bet red-head boy wins.” Robin said, turning to the others.

“His arms be too skinny. The big strong lad tis sure to be the best.” Mary countered, pointing out her choice with a shaking arm.

“Oh, I think the one with the moustache will be the best!”

The Captain shook his head, “That’s their leader, Kitty. I hardly think it’s fair to include Patrick in their competition.”

“We used to hold proper archery tournaments here. I remember one time, King Henry- “

“Shhh!” The Captain cut off Humphrey’s rambling, leaning ever so slightly forward as Pat began to speak. He could hear some of the ghosts mumbling behind him but found himself fully focused on the Scoutmaster as he handed the bow to one of the boys and the arrows to another. He kept his eyes trained on his face, nodding along as he instructed the boys.

He was so focused on his face that he almost missed the arrow that pierced through his neck.

The Captain inhaled sharply, finding himself quite frozen as he watched Pat fumble for his keys as his face drained of colour. He was vaguely aware of the other ghosts watching the scene unfold alongside him, all of them silent. He winced as Pat struggled to get into the minibus, the arrow catching the door frame.

“Do you think he’ll make it off the grounds?” Thomas asked quietly from somewhere behind him.

“No.” Robin answered decisively, and the Captain found himself silently agreeing.

Silence descended once more as they watched the minibus jerk to life, looking for just a moment like it might manage a daring escape before swinging round quite suddenly and crashing into the tree. The sound of the car horn filled the air.

For a few seconds, they all stood and listened. One, or maybe more, of the children had started crying, practically screaming. “I suppose we should go see if he’s stayed.” Fanny said, her voice softer than the Captain had ever heard it.

“I’ll go,” He found himself saying, quite unsure of why he had volunteered himself, “Best not to all swarm him at once if he has stuck around.” Before anyone could argue with him- he had the least experience with this after all- he strode towards the minibus.

As he neared, he slowed down, his feet faltering slightly. What do you say to a man you just saw die? He sucked in a steadying breath as he circled around the tree to get to the door. For one foolish moment, he considered knocking on the metal frame. Instead, he stepped up and through the door.

Before him, he could see Pat, slumped face-down in the driver’s seat, a bloom of red slowly dying the blue and yellow striped scarf. The Captain closed his eyes for a moment, the sight making his stomach turn slightly.

He was gone.

“Are you here to take me to heaven?”

Or maybe not.

The Captain’s eyes flew open and he turned to his right where, perched on the edge of one of the seats, was Pat. “Do I look like an angel to you?” He replied, slightly flustered to have missed him on first glance.

Pat looked at him, and that in itself felt almost alien to the Captain. No-one new had looked at him in almost 40 years. “I reckon you could be. Wouldn’t be the strangest thing to have happened today.”

His eyes started to drift back over to his own body, so the Captain quickly cleared his throat to regain his attention, “Well, I’m afraid I’m no angel. I suggest you come with me. No sense hanging around here.”

He felt a stab of pity as Pat swallowed thickly, “What about the kids? I’m meant to be looking after them…”

Stepping fully up into the bus, the Captain hesitated only minutely before placing a hand on Pat’s arm, “They’re a bright bunch, they’ll be alright. It’s you who needs some looking after right now. Come along, we can accompany me on my patrol.” 

“Shouldn’t I stay with…” He trailed off again, looking over the Captain’s shoulder at his own body.

The Captain shook his head, “Best not to linger,” Tightening his grip just a little, he helped the reluctant Scoutmaster up, leading him towards the door and passing through it without a thought. Once he had stepped out, he realised that Pat hadn’t followed. He stuck his head back through the door, jerking back in surprise as he came face to face with Pat, who was staring at him with eyes like saucers behind his glasses.

“I really am dead, aren’t I?” His bottom lip quivered slightly.

“I’m afraid so.”

The Captain could see that his eyes had gone misty, “I have a son, a wife. He’s going to grow up without me. He won’t even remember me. I need to go to them!”

“Now, hold on a moment-“ The Captain attempted as Pat pushed past him, and through the door. Cursing, he wheeled around to see Pat running for the road, “Patrick!” He called out futilely. Distantly, he could hear sirens. Not so distantly, he could hear the other ghosts exclaiming at the sight of their newest member. “Oh, for heaven’s…” He muttered, taking off after him.

It didn’t take long to catch up with Pat, and the Captain started to jog alongside him, “Listen here, Patrick. I know this is a lot to take in, but you’ve got to be rational about this! No sense in running away.”

“I need to be with my family.” He huffed, seemingly out of breath despite not needing air.

“You can’t leave!” The Captain called, skidding to a halt just before the gate. He watched sadly as Pat ran straight out- and then ran straight back in again. He sighed, “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Spinning to face him, Pat looked around wildly, “So that’s it then?! I’m stuck here forever!”

“I won’t lie to you, Patrick; that may be a possibility. If you would accompany me, I’ll tell you everything I know.” Pat looked at him, and now the Captain could see fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“This can’t be real.” He whispered, more to himself than to the Captain, but blessedly he did step as if to walk beside the Captain, a parody of how the Captain had spent the morning following him around.

Taking up a slow pace, the Captain started to lead him back down the path. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pat wince as an ambulance raced by, followed by two police cars.

“So,” Pat started, his voice trembling, “Is that all real?” He waved his hand up and down, gesturing to the Captain as a whole.

“Is what all real?”

“The army stuff.”

The Captain nodded, “Of course. I was stationed out here during the Second World War.”

“Right, right…” His gaze grew distant, “Would you mind just talking about something? Anything to take my mind off…”

“Yes. Of course, Patrick.”

“It’s just Pat. Only me mum calls me Patrick.” His moustache twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile, but quickly fell back into gloom.

“Very well… Pat…” The Captain wracked his brains for something to talk about. He usually had no trouble regaling stories of the war, of his life, but found his head quite empty, “I, uh, suppose it would be good to tell you a bit about the grounds. Turn this patrol into a bit of a tour. Have you been here before?”

Pat shook his head, “No, this was my first camp here. I’ve read the leaflet, mind.”

“The… Leaflet?”

“That’s how we heard about this place. They sent us a leaflet in the post. Come to think of it, it did mention that the house was used in the war. It had this little picture of the woman who used to own it too, she looked proper cross.” As Pat spoke, he seemed to perk up, just a little bit.

The Captain nodded along, “Ah, that’s probably Fanny. You’ll get used to her.”

Pat paused, processing what the Captain had said, “You mean there’s more people stuck here?”

“Afraid so. There’s seven of us all together.” He thought for a moment, “Well, not including the plague pit.”

“Plague pit?!”

“Ah, no need to worry about all that for now.” He quickly soothed, “Let me show you the lake, it’s quite splendid.”

So, the Captain led the way through the trees to the lake, finding conversation came easily with Pat, and doing his best to talk over the sounds of the emergency services somewhere off behind them.

When the sound of the minibus horn finally stopped, neither of them chose to mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the show Pat died in the morning but, as a Cub Scout leader, I couldn't resist having few extra activities thrown in.  
> Also, the kids doing archery are technically Cubs, not Scouts (Pat mentions Keith being 8 in Perfect Day) but I figure the Captain wouldn't really know the distinction.   
> But regardless of all that, we have a Pat!


	4. Chapter 4

Once he’d gotten over the shock of his death- as much as one could get over their life suddenly ending- Pat fit in well with the other ghosts. So well, that the Captain could scarcely remember a time before he was around.

Within a year, he had the whole house attending various clubs and games almost daily, his constant good mood quite literally lifting the spirits of the house. Everyone seemed to love him; Kitty enjoyed having someone around as optimistic as her; Robin would take walks with Pat, debating over which berries and flowers in the woods you could and couldn’t eat; Humphrey liked how Pat would actually make some attempt to find his body; Mary was thrilled to bits with being able to share her life through the clubs he had set up. Hell, even Fanny deemed him to be acceptable, even if she didn’t approve of his shorts.

The only one who didn’t seem to have a strong opinion on Pat was Thomas, who instead liked to complain that the clubs interrupted his best time for writing, no matter when Pat scheduled them for.

And the Captain… He wasn’t sure how he felt. In the first few weeks, he spent most of everyday with Pat, answering his questions about the house, telling him what he knew about their fellow ghosts. When Pat had the idea for the first club, it was the Captain he told about it. He rather thought they were getting along quite well.

Pat had even asked him what his name was.

As far as the Captain knew, no-one in the house knew his real name. At least, if they had overheard it while he was alive, he was sure none of them remembered it. When he’d died, Humphrey had called him Captain and that had been it, no-one had cared to ask. Until Pat.

“It’s of no matter.” He had told him.

“Of course it matters, it’s your name!”

“Everyone at this house has called me Captain, since before I died. I rather think it’s too late to go about changing that now.”

And that had been the end of it. But still, the Captain often thought about the small exchange, and how it might have felt to have someone to keep his name alive.

It wasn’t long after that, however, that Pat started to drift away. Obviously, he didn’t drift too far- there was nowhere he could really go- but the Captain did notice that he stopped joining him on his morning patrol, stopped sitting down in the kitchen with him to listen to the radio whilst Heather’s one remaining housekeeper cooked.

He supposed it was natural. Now that Pat had found his feet as a ghost, he didn’t have the time to keep him company all day. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a sting as he watched Pat attempt to play chess with Robin or listened to him and Kitty giggle over something or other. He didn’t know why he felt so put out by the whole thing; Pat wasn’t leaving him for the front or anything as dramatic as that, but he still found himself standing at the back of the room during one of Pat’s talks, wishing for… Something.

“I see you too are afflicted with a longing heart.” The Captain jumped as Thomas spoke from beside him, not having heard the man approach.

“I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean.” He whispered, glancing at the poet before quickly looking back to Pat, not wanting to seem like he wasn’t listening.

Thomas nudged his arm anyway, “I can see such heartache in your eyes. Feeling I ne’er thought I’d see from such a stoic soul such as yourself.”

The Captain should his head slightly, frowning, “Stop speaking in riddles, what the bally hell are you going on about?” He hissed, keeping his eyes facing forward.

“Your heart beats with love for Patrick, it’s plain to see.”

The Captain whirled around to face Thomas, who was stood with a hand over his heart. His tightened his grip on his swagger stick in an attempt to stop himself shaking- from anger or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. “Now look here, Thorne, I don’t know what you think you see, but I suggest you keep me out of whatever fantasy you’re trying to compose. I will not tolerate any such false accusations. I could have you shot for such slander!”

A dramatic gasp to his right made him turn back to the group, all of whom were looking at him. He glanced back at Thomas to see him clutching dramatically at the hole in his abdomen. “How. Dare. You. Such insults, I’ve never- “

“Oh, give it a rest!” The Captain exclaimed, turning smartly on his heel and walking out through the wall. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of Pat, mouth fallen open in shock, staring right at him. 

\---

The Captain kept walking through walls until he found himself outside the house entirely. Wringing his stick between his hands, he marched straight for the tree line, thoughts running a mile a minute.

How dare Thomas insinuate such things about him! He’d known men, good men, who had been killed because of words like that. And to suggest that he was- was- It was a joke! And just because he, what? Listened when Pat was talking? Enjoyed spending time with the one person in this wretched house that he actually had a thing or two in common with?

He fumed his whole way to the lake, coming to a stop at the water’s edge. He wished he could pick up some rocks, or maybe some sticks to throw into the water. Irritably, he launched his swagger stick out towards the lake but, before it could sink into the water, he found it back in his hand.

In the end, he wasn’t sure how long he stood on the bank before he heard a small cough from behind him.

“I came to check if you were alright.”

“I’m quite alright, Patrick. You can go now.”

Their footsteps made no sound, but he was certain that Pat had stepped closer anyway, “You called me Pat before.”

“Yes, well, perhaps I’ve been too familial.”

“Too familial? Cap, I dunno what Thomas said to you, but you’re clearly upset about it. Maybe if you’d talk about it- “

“No, thank you,” He interjected, stubbornly refusing to look at Pat, “I assure you, there is nothing wrong. Just a misunderstanding between Thomas and myself. Now, if that’s all you came out here for…”

Pat was quiet for so long that the Captain almost though he had left, before he said, sounding rather forlorn, “Just… Don’t stay out here all night. Dead or not, I know it’s not good for your back.”

As he passed him, Pat reached out and briefly placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently just the once before letting go. Long, long after he left, the Captain placed his own hand over the spot, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath.

By the time he returned to the house, the birds had begun to sing their welcome to the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have a wonderful new year!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains Tories

After the altercation with Thomas, the Captain made a conscious change to his behaviour. He started patrolling the grounds more, oftentimes spending hours just roaming through the trees. He started brainstorming possible ways in which he could move on, or at the very least escape.

He stopped attending Pat’s clubs. It had become clear to the Captain that they were an unnecessary distraction from his work. His war was not over, there was simply a new enemy to face.

Sometimes, at the end of his weekly briefings, Pat would look at him, sometimes even open his mouth as though to speak, and the Captain would hurry out of the room. It’s not that he was avoiding him. He just didn’t want anyone else getting the wrong idea. So yes, perhaps he maintained an icy distance for the next few weeks, months, bleeding into years, but it was for his own good. Best not to get too attached.

Perhaps this rift between them would have continued to grow and grow, were it not for a momentous event.

Julian’s death.

The Captain had been quite put-out by the arrival of a raucous bunch of MPs, and even more distressed by their behaviour. He watched on in horror as one of them produced a small pouch of some white substance, wiggling it in the air triumphantly, this being met with cheers from his friends.

“Good lord.” He mumbled as they began pouring shots, one of them calling for a game of ‘strip poker’, something he didn’t want to begin to imagine.

“Who’d’ve thought it, ey? I mean, you read about stuff like this in the papers but to see it actually happening…” The Captain startled only slightly at Pat’s voice, the man appearing at his left-hand side and leaning in close to be heard over the noise.

He tutted, lifting his chin, “It’s highly inappropriate. These are the men who govern our nation, for Christ’s sake! You wouldn’t have caught politicians acting like this in my day.”

“I actually recognise most of these guys. It’s funny, in a way. That guy there opposed a bill on same-sex partnerships, yet here he is, about to do Christ knows what with a bunch of blokes!” Both of them winced as one of the men started fumbling for his trousers.

“I, uh, think we can probably supervise this one from outside the room, don’t you?” Pat nodded quickly and they both hastened from the chamber. As they passed through the door, the sound of fabric hitting the floor was followed by another round of cheers.

Alone together in the hallway, the Captain found Pat looking up at him, a wry smile on his face, “Are you really going to stand out here and listen to, well, that?”

“Someone must, Patrick.” He replied, glancing at the door as the crowd inside jeered.

“But why?” He asked softly.

“In case something goes wrong. They’re abusing all manner of substances in there, there’s no telling what might happen.”

Pat sighed and, to the Captain’s surprise, sat down on the floor before him. He patted the ground at his side, “There’s no point standing around all night, you’ll only give yourself a sore back.”

“You don’t have to stay, Patrick. I’m fully capable of manning the post on my own.” He shifted uncomfortably.

From the floor, Pat offered him another smile, “I know you are, mate, but it’ll pass quicker with some company.”

For a moment, the Captain was unsure. Then, he looked back at Pat’s smiling, earnest face and, with cricking knees, sunk to sit beside him. 

After letting a few minutes pass with only the sounds from the room behind them to fill the air, Pat coughed slightly, “So, uh, Cap. I was… I guess I just…”

“Out with it, Patrick.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” His voice rose a few octaves as he burst out with the question, his mouth snapping shut once the words were out.

“It’s nothing personal, I’ve just been tending to my duties.”

“But,” And the Captain felt quite guilty at how sad Pat’s usually jovial face looked, “Surely you could find time to come to one or two of the clubs. Or maybe I could come with you on your walks!”

The Captain’s upper lip twitched, in a sort of self-deprecating smile, “You were the one who stopped joining me out on patrol.”

“It just seemed like you didn’t really want me there.”

“Nonsense,” He found himself saying, “I find myself quite enjoying your company.” He could feel his face heating up at the admission and quickly added, “Plus, it’s always helpful to have another pair of eyes on the scene.”

Even so, Pat smiled at him again, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. The Captain supressed a shiver from running up his spine. “Then I’ll be there. 6 o’clock sharp?”

“I, uh, yes.” He struggled to hide a smile of his own, “Jolly good.”

A loud thud sounded from behind the door, startling the two men. They both glanced to each other, and then to the door.

“D’you reckon someone’s fallen over?”

“I’m not sure.” The Captain shuffled closer to the door, turning his head as if to press his ear against the wood- although he was pretty sure his ear was actually in, rather than on, the door. “I can’t hear- “

Just as he was about to finish his sentence, a shrill scream sounded from the room. Jumping to his feet, the Captain braced himself before stepping through the door, Pat close on his heels.

In the room, he could see the small table littered with glasses, playing cards, and what could only be drugs. Of the six people in the room, five of them were stood around in various states of undress, all staring down at the sixth person, who was slumped on the ground in an unseemly position, missing his trousers. Someone kept screaming.

“You don’t think he’s…” Pat asked from beside him, raising his voice to be heard.

Before he could answer, one of the MPs turned away from the figure on the floor to look right at them. With a shock, the Captain realised that this man was identical to the one on the ground, missing trousers and all.

“Now, look here, I appreciate a good joke as much as the next man, but this is a step too far!” The man advanced and the Captain felt his heart constrict in his chest. He found it quite impossible not to focus on his clear state of undress. “I don’t know who hired you, and I definitely don’t know who hired you,” He shot a derisive look at Pat before returning his attention to the Captain, “But I suggest you leave, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Feeling a rush of fury, the Captain stepped right up to the man, jabbing his finger hard into his chest, “No, you look here! You have no right to come into our house, take part in such foul behaviour and then insult us! I assure you, this is no joke, and no one will be laughing when they realise you’re stuck here, least of all you.”

“I think what Cap’s trying to say is, and this might take a while to sink in but, you’re actually, really dead.” Pat fit his hand in the crook of the Captain’s elbow, gently pulling him back from where he was practically nose-to-nose with the newly dead man.

“No. No, no. Absolutely, no. I am definitely still alive, in fact, I feel more alive than I’ve felt in days! And, furthermore, I’m not going to fall for the lies of two fruits playing dress up!”

The Captain felt the familiar urge to turn-tail and run but something in the way he’d thrown the insult at both of them, and in the way Pat’s grip on his elbow momentarily tightened made him stand his ground and stand up a little straighter. “You’re clearly in a state of shock, but that’s no excuse for the behaviour you’ve displayed. To reiterate what Pat said, you are dead. Believe us or don’t, but you’ll soon see. Now come along, Patrick. This man is clearly in no state to accept our help.”

He turned on his heel and marched towards the door, relieved to see out of the corner of his eye that Pat was indeed following him. Together, they stepped through the walls, hearing a startled yell from behind them.

“I feel kind of bad, just leaving him.” Pat confessed.

“Not to worry, Patrick, I don’t intend to leave him unsupervised.”

“No?”

He shook his head, a small smile creeping onto his face, “I think Fanny ought to sort him out, don’t you?”

A slightly nervous grin appeared on Pat’s face too, “That’s if she doesn’t die all over again seeing him without his knickers.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say on that matter. After you.” He nodded towards the stairs and allowed Pat to lead the way up and away from the racket in the room behind them. Despite the unopened can of worms that was the newly dead man, the Captain walked with a spring in his step for the first time in a long while.

If nothing else, it would be good fun to watch Fanny react to the new guy with Pat at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ghosts are all here!


	6. Chapter 6

Life- well, death- actually improved after Julian’s arrival. That wasn’t to say that Julian himself made things more bearable, but rather the impact of his presence did. By his nature, Julian caused a lot of arguments, which in themselves weren’t a good thing but did lead to some friendly (and sometimes not-so friendly) competitions to settle the score, which were at the very least entertaining to watch.

The Captain also found himself being able to enjoy Pat’s company once more. For a little while he had worried that Julian, being the closest to Pat in age, would steal away all of Pat’s attention. For a few days he frowned and fretted as Pat probed Julian for every bit of information about the outside world, before finally relaxing when Pat one day confided in him that, “He’s not really my sort of guy, Julian. Even if you can ignore the politics, the way he talks about minorities…”

He tried not to analyse why he felt so pleased at the admission.

Time went on, and the ghosts of Button House found their new normal, all engaging with Pat’s clubs, the Captain’s briefings (which he had managed to bump up to two times a week), as well as their own private activities. A wave of calm seemed to have fallen over the house, and the Captain couldn’t help but feel like it was a precursor to a storm.

He confessed as much to Pat as they walked the grounds in the early morning.

“I think you might be right, mate. I’ve been keeping an eye on Lady Heather, and I’ll be honest, I think she’s on her way out.” The smaller man frowned as he spoke.

“I fear the same. Who knows what ruffians might end up here once she’s gone? She has no children, never even had a partner, as far as I’m aware.” The Captain kept his eyes forward, turning his head occasionally to survey the land.

Pat hummed in agreement, and they walked in silence for a few moments. “Did you ever meet her? I mean, before you passed on?”

“I’m afraid not. The family evacuated to their cottage in the Welsh countryside for the war. We took over the house in ’41. By the time they returned in the spring of ’46, I’d already died.” He felt his hands start to shake just a little, so tightened his grip on his swagger stick; he’d been dead nearly 75 years, he should be over it by now. “The others were very excited for her return, they’d all watched her grow up, I suppose.”

“I met her. Spoke with her over the telephone to book the place for the Cubs, and she was there to welcome us when we arrived.” A small smile crept up Pat’s face, “She seemed ever so posh to all of us. I could hear the Cubs trying to talk like her in their tents.”

Despite himself, the Captain smiled too; he remembered sitting in the marquee that night, unseen by the leaders that were sat around one of the tables; he remembered hearing a high, muffled voice, a fit of giggles, before rapid hushing sounds.

He remembered Pat hiding a smile behind his drink.

“Do you think she’ll stay?” The Captain shook his head a little to bring his thoughts back to the present.

“No.” He said decisively.

Pat raised an eyebrow, “You seem awfully sure of that.”

“It simply wouldn’t make sense for her to stay. Unless someone breaks in and murders her that is.” Pat looked at him in confusion, so he elaborated, “Everyone who’s stayed seems to have died… Before their time. The Lord and Lady Button, Heather’s parents, died here too, you know. Both of them passed peacefully in their sleep, and both of them moved on.”

“Oh, maybe you have to be killed to stay here! I haven’t really asked the details of the others’ deaths, but it would make sense! Robin was probably killed by a bear or something, Thomas was shot, you could argue that whoever gave Julian the drugs killed him, Mary was killed in the witch trials- “

“It’s a nice theory, Patrick. There’s just one problem.” He hesitated, turning his head to look away, “I wasn’t killed.”

Pat’s mouth snapped shut, his eyebrows pulling in in sorrow, “I’m sorry, Cap. I guess I just assumed, what with the war…”

“Yes. Well. We can’t all have an honourable death, can we?” He bit at the inside of his cheek, his grip on his swagger stick white-knuckled.

“Cap, you were fighting a war. Just because you weren’t shot, doesn’t mean you didn’t die with honour.” He placed a hand over the Captain’s tightly clenched fist and he slowly loosened his grip.

He coughed slightly, embarrassed to have been seen to be upset, “That’s very kind of you to say, Patrick. But also incorrect.” He sucked in a breath, “I… I died after the war was over. We only came back to the house to… Tie up loose ends, as it were.”

Pat’s grip of his hand tightened, perhaps meant as reassurance.

“Thanks for telling me. I know that must have been hard to say.”

The Captain swallowed, looking down at where Pat was soothing his thumb in small circles on the back of his hand. He felt he should pull his own hand away. He didn’t.

“I, uh, trust you won’t go blabbing all this to any of the others. Not they wouldn’t already know, of course, but- “

“Your secret’s safe with me, Cap.” He gently cut him off, squeezing his hand again. For one brief moment, the Captain considered turning his hand over and squeezing back.

Instead, he just mumbled, “Jolly good then.” And continued leading them on the last part of their patrol.

\---

After Heather did pass away, and pass on, the Captain felt a grim sort of victory. He had been right- a storm was coming, and her name was Alison.

While he may not have approved of Julian’s careless method to try and get rid of her, he did find himself firmly on the side of wanting both her and Mike out of their house. Oh, he liked them both well enough as people, but the idea of being stuck for eternity in a hotel of all places didn’t bear thinking about. So, he spent his days plotting and scheming, often with Julian of all people, scaring away builders, contractors, and anyone else who dared try and change what had become his home.

Eventually though, things settled, as they always seemed to. Alison and Mike side-lined their hotel idea and turned to event, which the Captain found far more agreeable- after all, a one- or two-day event was really no worse than the Scout camps, and he found he secretly rather enjoyed those. Plus, with Alison’s ability to see and hear them, he could actually be involved.

It’s funny, he thought, he’d never had much of an interest in marriage and weddings when he had been alive but had felt positively delighted by Sam and Clare’s wedding. The idea felt so novel too; two women being able to marry each other. Alison had of course told them that things had changed, certain behaviours were no longer seen as taboo, but to actually witness it…

The thought kept creeping back to the Captain, whilst he was lying in bed, when patrolling the grounds with Pat before his run, even during their weekly film night. The beautiful wedding wouldn’t leave his head, and he was tempted to talk to Alison about it before realising he had nothing to actually say. He couldn’t exactly come to her with, ‘I keep thinking about that wedding last month, wasn’t it nice?’ So, he did what he always did; he bottled up the thoughts and carried on as though nothing was eating away at him, only allowing himself to dwell when he was alone, which was really only late at night and during his morning run.

And it was during one of these runs that he realised maybe his thoughts weren’t as subtle as they seemed.

He was running, just nearing the treeline, maybe 30 seconds into his run, when a furry mass leapt out at him from the bushes, screaming as it did. The Captain couldn’t help but let out a startled shout, diving to the side on instinct to avoid whatever creature it was.

The sound of laughter soon cleared up the question of what, or rather who.

“Damn you, Robin, you’ve completely ruined my time!” He started to climb to his feet, disgruntled by the way Robin was quite literally pointing at him and laughing.

“I got you good! Hey, wait up, need to talk to you.” Robin stopped laughing as the Captain began to run again. The caveman sprinted to catch up.

Puffing out breath he didn’t actually need, the Captain refused to look at Robin, “If you needed to talk to me, you should have waited until after my run.”

“Is private! You won’t talk about it in front of others.”

“Talk about what, exactly?”

“Feelings!”

The Captain pulled up short, his feet faltering as he came to a stop. “What feelings?”

Robin shrugged, tilting his head as he looked up at him.

Realising he wasn’t going to elaborate, the Captain started moving again, although only walking this time. “Very helpful, Robin. Go bother someone else about their feelings, I’m sure Thomas will be more than happy to indulge.”

Running around to stand in front of the Captain, Robin walked backwards as he spoke, “No, no, I mean your feelings. You think a lot. But no talk.”

“You’re being ridiculous, stand aside.” He tried to sidestep around Robin, but the man just sidestepped with him. “Dammit, Robin!”

“You hide too much. It make you big sad. I hide nothing, I am happy.” Robin spread his arms wide, as if blocking him in.

The Captain looked around, a little desperately. He was trapped, both figuratively and literally. He could try running back the way he came but he had no doubt that Robin was faster than him, or at least had fast enough reflexes to grab him before he got away. He could feel his spectral heart hammering in his chest. He felt a sudden kinship with the deer in the headlights.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been thinking about the wedding, if you must know.” He forced himself to look Robin in the eyes. It simply wouldn’t do to seem passive.

The other man nodded sagely, as if this little bit of information was the key he needed to understanding whatever it was he wanted to understand. He lowered his arms. “They like you.”

“They couldn’t actually see any of us, Robin, I don’t think it’s possible that they like-“

“No, no. They like you. You like them. You are the same.”

He gave Robin a quizzical look. He hadn’t the faintest idea what the other man was going on about. He couldn’t think of a single thing he knew he had in common with the two ladies. He was starting to think that perhaps Robin’s old age had finally caught up with him.

“You all love in same way.” Robin continued when he saw that the Captain clearly wasn’t getting his message. He offered a toothy smile when this only seemed to further confuse him. Reaching out, he patted him roughly on the shoulder, “You figure it out. One day.”

And before the Captain could think to ask him what exactly he was trying to get at, Robin turned and ran back towards the house, barrelling through the front door. Faintly, he could hear Alison let out a surprised shriek. 

It was only later, much later, just as he was about to drift off into sleep that the thought clicked into place, sending a rush of unseen colour to his face in the dark. From anyone else, he would see it as an accusation, an insult even, but from Robin…

It felt like it just might be the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far, it really does mean the world to me.  
> Updates might be a bit slower from here on in as I haven't actually written the next chapter yet and I'll have much less free time in January but I will do my best!


	7. Chapter 7

He began to notice things, after the ‘chat’ with Robin. Little things that he supposed he’d always done subconsciously, but that now seemed glaringly obvious. Like when they were watching a film and people started removing their clothes; if it was a woman, he averted his eyes out of respect; if it was a man… He found his gaze getting caught. During the wedding receptions that Alison and Mike had started hosting, he kept finding himself watching, perhaps even admiring, the grooms, the best men, all dressed up in shirts and ties, which they often loosened in the course of the night. 

Looking back at his behaviour, he could remember things too. The way he’d followed around the handsome film direction. The sucker-punch feeling when Havers left. How he’d walked beside Pat on the morning of that fateful camp. How, despite having always, always patrolled alone, he had invited Pat to join him in his daily routine. How he let Pat hold his hand. How he wanted to hold his hand in return.

He felt that he needed advice.

He also felt that he never wanted to talk about such things out loud.

It was this indecision that led him to stand outside a certain man’s door, dithering about whether to go in and just ask. Whether talking might reveal far too much.

For how long he paced back and forth on the worn carpet outside room he had no idea, but he still found himself startled as the owner of the room spoke.

“Can I help you, Captain?”

Nervously, he cleared his throat, “Ah, Thomas. I, uh, thought we might have a word,” As he spoke, he turned on his heel to face the door, which Thomas was stood halfway through, “It’s about rather a… Sensitive matter.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, surprise evident on his face, “And you wish to discuss such a matter with me? One would assume dear Patrick would be your usual port of call.”

The very mention made the Captain’s face heat up, and he fought to maintain a neutral façade, “Ah, yes, well, I wanted to ask about something which I gather you to be an expert in. But like I said, I’d rather not have it broadcast, so if we could…” He gestured to the door.

Despite his obvious confusion, Thomas waved his hand through the door, “By all means, come in.” Following the poet through the door, the Captain was greeted with a fairly bare room, although one with a large window and a cushioned seat right by it. He wasn’t expecting to see any personal effects, so was quite surprised by the small portrait miniature on the bedside table. He couldn’t see who it depicted from where he was stood, but he must have been caught staring as Thomas said softly, “Fair Isabelle. Alison found it in small lockbox under one of the beds and was kind enough to gift it to me.”

The Captain nodded, “Yes, Alison is very thoughtful about such things. And that’s sort of what I want to ask you about,” He hesitated, “Now, understand that this conversation may not leave this room. Strictly confidential. I want your word that you won’t go blabbing to any of the others about this. Not even Alison.” He added quickly. Best to cover his bases.

Thomas placed a hand to his chest, “If my silence is that important to you, then you have my word. I shan’t repeat what is said within this room.”

Wringing his swagger stick between his hands behind his back, he cleared his throat again. “I- I wanted to ask… Seeing as you’re the expert… How do you know when you’re… In love?” He could feel his heart pounding, his eyes flittering to the door, the window, anywhere but Thomas’ face.

“Why, Captain, it’s easy! You simply wish to be with them, for them to be with you and to leave their foolish husband and- “

“I don’t mean your infatuation with Alison,” He cut in quickly, wincing at the thought that this whole thing was a terrible mistake, “Rather, I meant before. With…” He cut his gaze to the small painting.

Thomas’ face fell slightly into sorrow, “Isabelle.” He too looked at the miniature and was silent for so long that the Captain almost felt he should leave him. “It was winter, when our paths first crossed. I had been invited to a small gathering here, at Higham House, with a small collection of other poets and writers. We passed the evening in merriment, sharing our newest works, sipping on wine and engaging in parlour games.”

Moving to the window, he sat on the cushioned seat, looking out to the gloomy winter sky. “I excused myself from the room for a quick dash to the privy and, stood right outside the parlour room door, there she was. I was immediately startled by her beauty, lit only by the dying candlelight,” A wistful smile crossed the poet’s face, “And she herself was startled to have been caught listening at the door.

“She began to apologise, of all things, explaining how terribly bored she had been and how wonderfully fun our little gathering sounded. And I could have stood and listened all night were it not for the unavoidable call of mother nature. So, I suggested that she should write me a letter, by way of apologising, and that she should be sure to include her name so that I might write back to accept.”

The longer he spoke, the softer his smile grew, his eyes seeming to sparkle in the low winter light. Entirely against his will, he felt a pang of sympathy for Thomas. He knew how this story ended. With an exhale, he sat down on the bed.

His eyes still staring off into the outside world, Thomas continued, “By the end of the week, I had received her first letter, and I dropped everything so that I might send her a swift response. She too replied with haste, and soon we were sending two letters each week. I had courted women in the past, but never like this. Never with such a burning passion. Every poem I composed was set to her face, every line an ode to her smile.

“It wasn’t until summer that we we’re able to meet again. Her father took a trip to their manor in Scotland, while she opted to remain here. She wrote to me at once with the news, and we spent the hot days walking through the countryside. We’d sit in among the daisies, gorging ourselves on fruit. I would recite poems, written just for her, and she’d share with me her music,” He had closed his eyes by this point, a hand clutched to his heart, “From the moment we parted in the evening, I longed for the moment that I would be back by her side again.”

“I could tell you of the moments that made me fall in love, but only saying one of them would be an injustice to the other thousand.” His smile turned slightly bitter, and he opened his eyes to look at the Captain, “You will forgive me if I do not recite how this tale ends.”

“Of course.” The Captain mumbled, unable to maintain eye contact with the man, “May I ask, would you have changed it? Knowing now how it ends?”

Thomas gave him a pitying smile, “And that, Captain, is how you know that it is love. When you would not change a thing, even if the ending is not the one you dreamed of. Knowing her, loving her, is the greatest pleasure of my life. Well, death.”

The Captain swallowed, looking back to the tiny painting of Isabelle. He wasn’t sure if Thomas’ story had helped him with his problem, but it certainly meant something that he had been actively interested in the tale, instead of finding his usual distain for anything of the romantic variety.

“I shan’t pry as to who you might be holding a torch for, but I hope that you are able to learn from my short fallings.” Thomas stood, crossing the room to sit beside Captain on the bed, his eyes also falling to the painting.

“And what do you think I should learn from them?” The Captain asked, turning to the side to face the poet.

Without looking back at him, he said, “Not to waste time. To tell them how you feel and to enjoy every last second with them, for no one can be sure of how long you may have.”

He was about to reply when, quite aptly, the clock chimed for the hour. With a shock, he jumped to his feet, “Blast, Pat’s meant to be giving a talk on how to cook an egg in an orange. Hop to, Thorne, we’re already late as it is!” Without waiting to see if the other man was following, he strode through the wall.

Behind him, Thomas pressed two fingers to his lip, lowering them to the painting before rising to his feet and following after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way writing this makes me want to write a spinoff for Isabelle and Thomas.  
> Also, cooking an egg in an orange is from an official scouting cookbook that I own!


	8. Chapter 8

“So, this one camp, we cooked pizzas in a pizza oven made from a metal drum. Now, to create the actual oven, we welded a chimney onto the drum, as well as…”

The Captain stood behind the sofa, hands clasping his swagger stick behind his back as he listened to Pat’s talk- it turned out that it wasn’t just on cooking eggs in oranges, but on camp food in general. As he listened, he came to the decision that he wasn’t in fact in love. Rather that this was a passing fancy, a strong connection to a man with whom he had so much in common.

For one, he didn’t long for Pat’s company in the moments they were apart. If he were asked, the Captain would say he thought of the other man a normal amount. And what of it if he preferred the company of Pat over others, the same could be said of a good friend. No, he had decided, there was no reason to get himself in any sort of dilemma over the man, even if the sight of him talking so passionately did light a soft warmth in his chest.

“…And the best part was that it stayed warm for hours after so we could cook toasties wrapped in foil and all sorts! It was bloody brilliant.” Pat grinned and the other ghosts reacted in various ways, some nodding enthusiastically while others offered unsure smiles, betraying their lack of attention. “Well, that’s all I’ve got for tonight, folks. I won’t keep you any longer.”

They all started to drift from the room, either off to retire for the night or to find some other way to spend their evening. The Captain stayed, milling around behind the sofa as his companions slipped past him.

“You alright, Cap? I hope that wasn’t too boring, I do tend to drone on a bit about camping things.” Pat offered a smile, walking up to plonk down on the sofa and craning his head round to look at the Captain behind him.

He shook his head, unable to resist a tiny smile of his own, “Not at all. I rather think most of them enjoyed it, especially Mary and Robin.” He chuckled slightly, rocking forward a little on his feet, “Granted, it may not have been Thomas or Fanny’s cup of tea, but you can’t expect them to understand the outdoor lifestyle.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He seemed to hesitate, turning to face away for a brief moment, “Speaking of the outdoor lifestyle, I was thinking of taking a walk around the grounds. Maybe to the lake? The weather’s cleared and I thought it might be nice.”

The Captain’s smile thinned just slightly, his eyes darting to look at the now clear evening before returning to Pat, “Ah, well don’t let me keep you, Patrick.”

Turning back to fully look at him, Pat turned hopeful eyes on the Captain, “I was wondering if you’d like to join me? I’d love the company.”

“I- If it wouldn’t be an intrusion?” He fought to maintain composure, breaking the eye contact to look at the ground beside him.

Levering himself to his feet, Pat stepped straight through the sofa, “’Course not. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to come.” The Captain risked a look up to see Pat was smiling broadly at him, “After you.”

Nodding once, the Captain led the way out of the living room and through the front doors of the house, allowing Pat to fall into step right beside him once they were outside. They stepped a trail through the tree, neither of them speaking for a while before Pat broke the silence.

“I used to love nights like these,” He started, shooting a quick look at the Captain, “I’d miss the outdoors, see. We didn’t hold any winter camps, so, when the stars were up in the sky, I’d bundle myself up in my woollies and take myself off on a walk; my own personal hike.” He had a familiar smile on his face, but the Captain suspected that it wasn’t entirely filled with happiness, “I’d drive all over, to the woods, the beach, the moors, anywhere really. Carol didn’t like it much, mind. Probably because I always managed to wake her when I eventually came back in.”

“Perhaps she just missed you.” The Captain suggested. He could see the lake now, the stars glinting off the smooth surface.

Pat scoffed slightly, “I doubt it. Probably glad at the excuse to be rid of me for five minutes.”

Unable to resist the compulsion, the Captain lay a careful hand on Pat’s elbow, drawing his attention. The force of it almost made him lose his words. “If that is indeed how she felt, she was a very foolish woman.”

In the low light of the winter sky, he could see Pat swallow, his lip quiver just slightly, “That’s very kind of you to say.” He released his elbow, and they continued the few short paces to the bank. Pat almost immediately sat down, his hands out behind him to prop himself up. The Captain paused before the man called up gently, “You won’t get mud on you if you sit. Promise.”

With a huff, he carefully lowered himself, back and knees cracking as he did so. Slowly, he shifted to mimic Pat’s position, the both of them almost laid back, as if gazing up at the stars. Holding his breath, he adjusted his arm just slightly, just enough so that their index fingers barely brushed. When Pat didn’t jerk away, he felt almost compelled to cover his hand completely. Blowing out his held breath, he decided that just the gentle contact was all he could take.

“Tell me a story from one of your camps.” He asked on impulse. Out of the corner of his eyes, he felt quite certain that Pat was smiling.

“You want to hear a story?”

“I’m certain you must have a few good ones left to tell.” Pat moved, his hand falling away from the Captain’s, and he almost mourned the loss before it returned, this time two of his fingers curled just over two of the Captain’s.

“Well, there was this one Cub camp, we invited some of the Explorers to help out…” As the Captain listened to Pat, he decided he wasn’t in love. But the way his pulse thrummed through that small point of contact made him feel like he could be, if he only let it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! But I've come with Patcap to make up for the long wait! It's been a hectic week but (in theory) the wait for the next chapter shouldn't be as long.  
> (Also, I will confess that I wrote this while drunk so please tell me if you spot any mistakes!)


	9. Chapter 9

After that night, the Captain couldn’t stop thinking about it. They had stayed out there for hours, eventually laying down to look up at the bright crescent moon in the sky, keeping their fingers hooked together in some unspoken pact. It was maddening; he wondered in next time he could be bold enough to hold his hand.

And that was another thing; he kept catching himself daydreaming of a ‘next time’. The thought thrilled and terrified him in equal parts. The idea of asking Pat if he wanted to, what? Sit under the stars again? He wasn’t sure if he could stand to bare his feelings in such a way.

He felt almost embarrassed to admit it, even just to himself, but he wasn’t exactly an expert in the art of courting. If he cast his mind back far enough, he could remember his Grandad telling him when he was only a teen to find a nice girl and to take her dancing, take her out on a picnic, and ask her to go steady before you go off to fight and do your country proud. Make sure you have someone to fight for.

In the end, he was shipped off to war before he ever went steady with any girl. He did ask a girl dancing, just the once, but she had simply given him a pitying laugh and clapped him on the arm, telling him that she didn’t think she was quite his type. Thinking about Pat, perhaps he finally gets what she meant.

Quickly he realised that nothing in his life, and certainly nothing in his death, was going to help him. He couldn’t exactly take Pat out on a picnic, and dancing… Well, if just the thought sent his heart hammering, he was sure the actual thing would kill him all over again. He thought about Thomas, and his story of courting Isabelle, but quickly decided that wouldn’t do either- he couldn’t exactly pen Pat a letter, or God forbid a poem, and again, a picnic just wasn’t feasible.

It was when he was stood out in the garden, observing Mike’s questionable gardening that he had an idea. The man was shivering, digging at the frosted ground with a trowel when Alison came out, something bundled under her arm, “Are you sure those are going to grow in the middle of winter?”

“I dunno. But they’re called snowdrops, so I reckon it’s worth a try.” He stood up, brushing mud off of his knees.

Alison hummed doubtfully, “I think they’re just called that because they look like snow,” Walking up to him, she unravelled the bundle, which turned out to be a scarf, and threw it around his neck, “Don’t stay out too long, it’s meant to go below zero later.”

Mike grinned, dipping his head to kiss her quickly, which turned out to be a distraction so that he could press his cold hands to the back of Alison’s neck. She gave a shout of surprised, shoving him away with a poorly concealed laugh, “Oh, you bastard!” Very quickly she started to retreat back to the house.

“Love you too!” Mike called. Once she was out of sight, he pulled the scarf a little more securely around his neck before returning to the patch of ground he was currently working on. And the Captain realised that was it. He had the perfect source of romantic intel right in front of him. All he had to do was follow Mike around and observe the ways in which he showed his feelings for Alison. A simple reconnaissance mission made even more ideal by the fact that the target literally couldn’t see him.

With a small, self-indulgent smile, the Captain leant back against the wall. He had the perfect plan.

\---

“Why have you been following Mike?” 

The Captain nearly jumped out of his skin, standing quickly to attention from where he had been half perched on the table. He had been trailing Mike for all of a day and it seemed Alison had already rattled him. Mike turned from where he was stood at the counter, halfway through making a sandwich.

“One of them’s been following me?” He looked around him, his eyes darting about half a foot above the Captain’s head, “Why have they been following me?”

Alison glanced at Mike before levelling her stare back at the Captain, “I don’t know, Cap,” At this, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Why have you been following Mike?”

Feeling rather like he’d been caught in a trap, he started to inch towards the closest wall. Not running away of course, rather a tactical retreat. “Now, look here Alison. This is my house just as much as it’s yours and I am fully entitled to traverse it as I please.”

“Bullshit.” Alison moved around the table, effectively blocking his current escape route, “You’ve been following Mike, and I want to know why. You’re up to something.”

The Captain huffed, standing firm, “You can throw around wild accusations all you like but I will not cave.”

“Should I just go..?” Mike’s eyes darted between his almost complete sandwich and the door.

Alison shook her head, turning her head briefly over to Mike, “No, finish your sandwich.” She turned back to see the Captain had made a run for it, already halfway through the wall, “If you run away, I’ll… Take away your tv privileges!”

This did give the Captain pause; there was so little entertainment in life at Button House, and the introduction of tv into all of their lives felt like an oasis in a never-ending desert. The thought of that being taken away, missing out on war programmes, current events, the chance to sit close to Pat for sometimes hours without needing to make up an excuse…

Turning around, he could see Alison’s rather smug smile, “Blackmail, really Alison? This is the sort of behaviour I’d expect from the likes of Julian.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not really blackmail, it’s just… Persuading you to tell me something.” She glanced to Mike for support.

“It does kind of sound like blackmail to me.”

“Well, you can’t hear the other half of the conversation!” To this, Mike just shrugged, biting into his sandwich. “Anyway, spill.” She added, directing her attention back to the Captain.

With a long-suffering sigh, he stepped back out of the wall, “I was just… Watching the things he does for you.”

“The things he does for me?” Alison asked, seemingly more confused by the answer.

Mike looked up from his sandwich, “She doesn’t mean like… In the bedroom, does she?”

“No!” Both Alison and the Captain called out, with the Captain adding on, “Really, Michael!”

Mike held up his hands defensively, “Alright, alright! I was just checking.”

“You know I wouldn’t let any of them see that, Mike. And also, you do realise this is the Captain, right?”

Judging by the surprise on his face, the Captain would wager that he wasn’t in fact aware of which ghost he was. Despite this, Mike still nodded quickly, “’Course I knew.”

Alison gave him a kind smile that showed she clearly didn’t believe him before returning her attention to the Captain, “What do you mean by ‘watching the things he does for me’?” She made small air-quotes with her fingers as she spoke.

Shifting uncomfortably, the Captain avoided her gaze, “Well I mean just that, Alison. Observing behaviours such as him bringing you tea in the morning and while you work. Letting you do the nicer jobs around the house.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth fell into a small frown, “Yeah but… Why?”

He swallowed, wondering again if it might just be worth making a break for it. “That’s a rather probing question, don’t you think? And besides, it’s not like it’s been any use.” In just the short space of time he’s been observing Mike, the Captain had realised one major problem with the vast majority of things he did- they involved being able to interact with the world around him.

“What’s he saying?” Mike asked as he finished off the last of his sandwich, but Alison just shushed him.

“Cap, are you… Trying to learn how to be romantic?” She ventured. The Captain grimaced at the look in her eye; it appeared far too close to pity. He opened his mouth, maybe to deny her guess, but found the words lodged in his throat. “Are you trying to woo someone?”

“Now, before you go throwing around any wild accusations- “

“Oh my god, you are!” The Captain quite felt that her excitement was out of proportion as her and Mike exchanged a look he couldn’t decipher, “Who- “

“No, absolutely none of that.” He cut her off quickly. He could already feel warmth creeping up his neck to his face.

Alison to her credit nodded, “Sorry, sorry. It’s none of my business.”

He sighed again, “Can I go now, or am I still under the constraints of your blackmailing?”

“Well, why don’t we help you? We can give you advice on how to romance him!” The Captain shot her a sharp look and she quickly tacked on, “Or her.” 

His instant reaction was to refuse- it was far too personal, far too much to talk about such things out loud. But then he pulled up short. He had a problem for which he wasn’t sure he himself could think up a solution; he had tried research in the only way he could and was still drawing a blank. So, the next logical step would be to seek advice.

He closed his eyes, drawing himself up before saying stiffly, “And what would you suggest I do?”

Cracking his eyes open again, he could see bright surprise on Alison’s face. “Well, obviously it would be easier to help if we knew who it was…”

“Don’t push it.”

“-But if you want, we could set up a film for just the two of you? Put the laptop in your room, make the bed up all cosy.” She looked almost hopefully up at the Captain.

And he thought about it. Maybe it wasn’t the most inventive idea out there but what with their limitations it was as good as he was going to get. Plus, he couldn’t deny that the thought of being alone in his room with Pat sent his pulse racing.

He nodded once, and then once more with added certainty, “Yes, I think that could work. But assuming this goes ahead, if you could have Michael be the one to set up the film, that would be preferable.” If all went well, perhaps he’d confide more in Alison but while he was still testing the waters, he’d rather keep his cards close to his heart.

“Yeah, alright.” She allowed, looking over at her husband who had clearly grown bored of the half conversation so had resorted to looking at his mobile.

The Captain cleared his throat awkwardly, “Well, uh, if he- if they are agreeable then I shall inform you of a specific time.” He offered Alison a tight-lipped smile before finally having the blessed relief of being able to walk through the wall and out of the room. Once in the safety of the hallway, he let his shoulders relax and his head hang just a little. But he also felt the hint of a real smile tug at the corner of his mouth; if he went through with this, it would change everything. 

And he couldn’t think of anything more terrifying, or anything more exciting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you guys, this chapter has by far been the hardest to write. I've been rewatching Yonderland and as a result, Cap kept trying to talk like Elder Vex (which is definitely not ideal!), and Alison was trying really hard to become Debbie.  
> But I finally finished it so i hope you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter 10

In the end, it was all embarrassingly easy.

After only a few days of mulling it over, the Captain managed to pluck up the courage during their morning round, his voice almost staying steady as he asked, “I say, Patrick, would you perhaps like to watch a film with me this evening? Alison owes me a favour of sorts and, if you aren’t busy, I wouldn’t be opposed to the company.”

“Just us two?” Pat asked, and the Captain almost dared to believe he sounded hopeful.

He nodded in response, “Yes, I rather think it’s nice to have a break from the rabble every now and again.”

And then with a smile so bright it nearly bowled him over, Pat accepted.

He quickly rushed to find Alison upon their return to the house, just about restraining himself from running as he searched the building, eventually finding her in Kitty’s room, paint roller in hand and a tray of purple paint at her feet. “Oh, hello Captain! Have you come to watch Alison paint my room with me?” Turning his head slightly, he noticed Kitty sat on her bed, hands clasped tightly in her lap with excitement.

“Ah, I’m afraid not Katherine. I thought I might have a quick word with Alison.” He twisted his swagger stick in his hands, a slight rush of worry bubbling inside him.

Turning her head to look back at him, Alison offered a small smile, “What’s up Cap?”

He gave a thin-lipped smile in response, “I actually wanted to speak to you alone, if that’s alright. I think you know what about.”

“Wha- Oh. Oh! Yeah, yeah that’s cool. Kitty, do you mind popping out for a little bit?” Alison turned around more fully, looking to Kitty apologetically.

Kitty, with a bright smile as always, looked between the Captain and Alison, “I’m very good at keeping secrets though! My sister used to make me keep all sorts of things a secret and I never told anyone, not even Florence.”

Exchanging a worried look with Alison- something nearly all of the residence of Button House did when Kitty’s sister was mentioned- he forced his face into something of a comforting expression, “I of course trust you to be a very good secret keeper Kitty, it’s just this is a rather personal matter. Not even Alison knows all the details.”

Nodding understandingly, Kitty rose to her feet, “It’s okay, Captain. You can tell me later.” She briefly squeezed his arm as she walked by, humming to herself as she passed through the wall. He felt some of the worry bleed away as she left, glad that she hadn’t pried.

“So, I assume this is about…” Alison said, dipping the roller back into the paint as she spoke.

Even though she couldn’t see with her back to him, he nodded, “Yes. I, well we I suppose, need Michael to set up the film tonight.”

“Alright, have you decided what film?” The Captain just stared at the back of Alison’s head, his mind seeming to short circuit for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, she turned around to see him staring blankly, “You did realise you’d have to actually think of a film to watch, right?”

Shaking his head a little to refocus, he clenched his swagger stick, “Of course, of course.”

“You have no idea, do you.” Alison said. It clearly wasn’t a question.

A little indignantly, the Captain took half a step closer, “Now, this whole business of being able to watch things on the television and on your ‘lap top’ is still very new to all of us here. Before you came along, the best we got was the occasional radio show. I don’t think I can be expected to know all the films you have at your disposal, let alone which ones Pat might enjoy!” 

Alison held up her hands, some paint flicking of the end of the roller as she did so, “Okay! Let me get my laptop, we can have a look on Netflix.” As she placed the roller back into the paint, brushing her hands on her already paint-splattered jeans, the Captain prayed that she hadn’t noticed his slip of the tongue.

As she left the room, he paced the floor nervously. He suddenly felt quite panicked about the whole affair- maybe he should just cancel, tell Pat that he wanted to be on his own instead. The thought of Pat’s disappointed, or even worse, upset face made his heart clench even more.

When Alison re-entered the room, he quickly stopped pacing and tried to look composed. He quickly realised it hadn’t worked when Alison asked, “Are you alright Captain?”

“Me? I’m marvellous. Absolutely splendid.”

Alison looked doubtful as she walked to the bed, placing the laptop on it before sitting on the floor in front of it, “Right… Well come on then, let’s have a look.” He approached, bracing himself before crouching down, wincing as his knees and back popped painfully. “What sort of film were you thinking?”

He frowned at the screen, “I’m afraid I haven’t put much thought to it. I was more preoccupied with the actual asking.”

She hummed in response, clicking idly through the website, “Well, I’d suggest something easy to watch. Nothing too serious. And something that they’d like.” She began showing him small descriptions of films, asking him which ones he like the sound of. The longer she went on, the more his concentration seemed to wane, his mind drifting from the task at hand. He could feel the panic rising up again.

“Look, I don’t know! I don’t know, I just need it to be perfect before I bloody ruin it!” His own outburst made him wince and he looked away from Alison.

She sighed, “Look, Cap, I get that you’re stressed about this, but can I tell you a secret?” After a brief pause, he nodded stiffly, “The film doesn’t matter that much. Because, at the end of the day, it’s not about the film, is it? It’s about spending time together, and if you both like each other, it doesn’t matter what you’re watching.”

He closed his eyes. He could feel his joints aching. “But what if he doesn’t like me?” Saying it out loud, he felt like a child, like the young boy he was before he even knew what a war was.

Alison’s hand hovered over his shoulder before retreating again, “You won’t know if you don’t try. But Cap?” He cracked open his eyes to meet her gaze, “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

He scoffed quietly, “You don’t even know who it is.” But one look at her face made him realise that he was wrong. Of course she knew, loath as he was to admit it, he wasn’t exactly a master in the art of subtlety. He was a fool to think she hadn’t heard him let slip the name.

“You know he’d never hold it against you.” She said softly.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I know. He’s a good man.”

Smiling gently, she looked back to the laptop, “Come on. Let’s find something good for you to watch.”

Nodding, he too turned back to the laptop. He wanted to say something else, maybe a thank you, but found he couldn’t quite grasp the words, so he instead he focused on the task at hand and, after nearly 30 minutes of searching, they finally landed on a film.

“And you’re certain he’ll enjoy this?” He asked for the umpteenth time as he stood up, letting out a relieved breath as his joints popped again, subtly shaking the stiffness away.

“Yeah, I think you’ll both enjoy it actually. It’s brilliant.” She stood too, pushing the laptop closed as she did, “I’ll send Mike to put it on for you at 8.”

“Jolly good then.” He said with a small smile, “I’ll let you get back to your painting.”

Alison huffed, looking at the half purple wall, “I should probably go find Kitty first.”

Propping the swagger stick under his arm, his bowed his head slightly to Alison, “Well, I wish you good luck with that.” And, turning on his heel, he headed for the door.

“Good luck to you to.” Alison called and, once out of sight on the other side of the door, he smiled.

“Thank you, Alison.” He mumbled softly under his breath before striding away to prepare for the night ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cap's got some first date jitters! I actually planned for this scene to be just a short little bit at the start of the next chapter but then things kept happening so it became it's own chapter.  
> I hope you enjoyed, and get ready for some more Patcap in the next update!


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of the day seemed to creep by, and the Captain found himself restlessly flitting from activity to activity, trying to whittle the time away. The only reprieve he found was the afternoon club, which found Mary stood before the rest of the ghosts, explaining the intricate rituals that must be undertaken when a baby is born.

This, of course, was of absolutely no interest to the Captain but he did find himself standing to attention behind the sofa, his eyes often drifting to the back of Pat’s head before quickly returning to Mary for fear of being caught out. Occasionally, Pat would sneak a look behind him and gift the Captain with a smile, or even a wink, and he’d find himself distracted all over again.

Once she had finished, Pat jumped to his feet to stand beside her, “That was brilliant Mary, absolutely fascinating. Alright guys, that’s all for today, but as always, don’t forget the Captain’s briefing at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning!” The Captain bowed his head towards Pat, fighting off the urge to smile.

Quite quickly, the rest of the ghosts dispersed, including Pat who left with a whispered, “See you later!” As he walked past. This time, the Captain couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at his lips, glad that no one remained to see it.

He passed the rest of the afternoon aimlessly, retreating to his room at 7 to fully prepare himself, which mostly involved sitting on his bed and overthinking. He was interrupted by a call of, “Knock, knock!” From outside his door.

Quickly standing, his brushed down his jacket before calling, “Come in.” He gripped his swagger stick tightly.

“Hello! Sorry I’m early but, you know me.” Pat stuck first his head through the door, disappearing for just a second before entering the room proper. The sight almost made the Captain laugh and he felt just a little bit of the tension bleed from his shoulders.

“Quite right, it doesn’t do to be tardy.” He cleared his throat, a beat of silence passing as Pat smiled encouragingly. “Do sit down. We’ll be on the bed, I’m afraid, this room doesn’t have the luxury of chairs.”

He watched as Pat hopped onto the bed, shuffling back until he could lean against the headboard. Walking around the bed, the Captain also sat, perhaps a little closer than was strictly necessary. If Pat noticed, he didn’t comment.

“So, what film are we watching?” Pat asked, turning his head to look at the Captain.

Likewise, the Captain turned to look at Pat. He was close enough that he could clearly make out the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “I can’t recall the name, but Alison assures me it’s very good. An action film, I believe.”

“I love a good bit of action, me.” And before the Captain could comprehend if Pat intended that as a euphemism, the door opened and Mike walked in, looking uncertain with a laptop under him arm.

He looked around the room, coughing nervously, “Uh, hello Captain. And, um, Pat?” 

He paused as if waiting for a response, and although he couldn’t hear it, Pat did chime, “Hello, Mike!”

“Right. I assume you’re sat on the bed, so I’m going to put this here, okay?” Speaking very slowly, Mike placed the laptop partway down the bed, the Captain shifting his legs a little to make room.

“He does realise that we’re fully capable of understanding him when he talks normally, right?”

“He’s just nervous, bless him.” 

They looked on as Mike opened up the laptop, pressing a few buttons before loading up the film. He stepped back as it started, “I’ll come get the laptop in the morning. Do you want the light on or off? Wait, you can’t answer that, I’ll just-“ Walking to the door, he quickly retreated, leaving them in only the light from the screen and from the night sky outside.

Shuffling a little to get comfortable, the two men turned their attention to the screen. The Captain wasn’t usually one to talk during films, but he wondered if he should be talking to Pat as they watched the first few scenes. He was saved from his worries by Pat talking to him.

“Hey, isn’t that the bloke off Mamma Mia?” The Captain leaned forward slightly to get a closer look, trying to recall the cast of the cheesy film Alison had insisted they all watch a few months back.

“Which one?” He asked, unsure.

Next to him, Pat shuffled across, shrinking the already small gap between them to nothing. The Captain’s heart leapt to his throat as Pat’s fingers curled around his wrist, lifting his hand to point it at the screen, “That one. He was the spontaneous one, I’m sure of it.”

A little hoarsely, he replied, “Ah yes. Jolly good.” Pat lowered his arm back down, releasing his wrist slowly and placing his own hand onto his leg. For a few moments, the Captain’s eyes stuck on the line of contact between their legs.

He let some time go by, his mind whirring with the idea that Pat had moved closer on purpose, that he’d unnecessarily held his wrist to point something out on screen. The longer the thought sat, the more the Captain felt he had to act, that now was the time to show Pat… Something.

He glanced at Pat’s hand, mere inches from where his own hand lay. Slowly, so slowly, he shifted his hand just a little to the left. He held his breath, waiting to see if he’d startled anything but Pat still seemed focused on the screen. So, he shifted his hand a little more. Then a little more. And, with his heart pounding a staccato in his chest, he let his little finger hook over Pat’s.

Unable to resist, he looked at Pat. The other man was still staring at the screen, but a smile had bloomed on his face. Without looking, Pat’s hand turned over on his leg, palm up as if waiting to be given something to hold. Swallowing hard, the Captain placed his hand over Pat’s, their fingers slotting together.

Staring at their joined hands, the Captain was almost scared to look away, in case it all turned out to be his imagination. “Hey.” He turned back to Pat, finding the other man looking back at him, their faces so close, “I’m not going anywhere.” Pat spoke softly, squeezing his hand to emphasis his point. With a quick nod, the Captain turned back to the film, finding the weight of Pat’s gaze too much to bear.

But he was surprised to find that the more time passed, the more relaxed he felt. Perhaps it was the small movement of Pat’s thumb back and forth over his own, or maybe the way that the world hadn’t ended despite how significant the moment felt. Pat must have felt relaxed too as slowly he started to lean against the Captain, until finally his head fell to rest on his shoulder.

“Is this alright?” He asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Breathing in slowly, the Captain tipped his own head to the side to rest against Pat’s, “It’s perfect.” His own voice hardly made a sound, but he knew from the resulting press of his hand that Pat had heard him.

The rest of the film passed without much talk, apart from the Captain commenting on the various weapons and gadgets used and Pat expressing his delight at all the action scenes. The ending came all too quickly for the Captain’s liking, and he wondered how long they could get away with not moving. Subconsciously, his grip on Pat’s hand tightened just a little.

“Well, that was bloody brilliant.” Pat’s voice was still quiet, not quite ready to disturb the peace either.

The Captain nodded, the movement ruffling Pat’s hair, “You know, Alison did mention that this film has a sequel. Perhaps we could watch it sometime.”

He couldn’t see his face, but somehow, he knew Pat was smiling, “I’d really like that, Cap.”

Lifting his head, and instantly missing the warmth, the Captain looked at Pat, who in turn slowly lifted his head to return his gaze. Clearing his throat nervously, he looked back at their joined hands, “You know, Patrick… Pat… I feel quite scared asking this,” He risked a look back to Pat, who was smiling encouragingly, hopefully even, “But I was rather wondering if this could be a date.”

The words sat in the air between them for a few moment, Pat’s eyes shining brightly in the lowlight. His smile grew to a grin and they both held each other’s hand in a tight grip. “I was really hoping it would be.” 

Unable to control it, the Captain felt himself smile too. He felt both the urge to jump up and down in some unseemly manner and to curl up close with Pat and never move. He settled for dropping his forehead to Pat’s shoulder, hiding his joy in the beige fabric. Laughing a little as he spoke, his voice muffled, he confessed, “I was so nervous.”

He lifted his head when Pat released his hand, confused for just a second before Pat started to gently tug him to lay down, both of them shuffling down the bed until they found a position that was comfortable, ignoring the way their legs phased through the laptop. With Pat laying on his back, the Captain rested his head on his chest, their legs slotting together. One of Pat’s arms was wrapped around the Captain, trailing up and down his back. His other hand reached for the Captain’s hand, tangling their fingers together once more and resting them on Pat’s stomach.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t think I’ll get a wink of sleep if I go back to my room now.” The Captain marvelled at the way he could heard Pat’s chest rumbled as he spoke.

“Of course. This seems to be the only sensible option.” Feeling the slow rise and fall of Pat’s chest, he couldn’t believe how well everything had gone. He felt almost giddy, and was certain that he wouldn’t find sleep quickly, and yet it wasn’t long before his eyes began to droop and eventually fall shut. The last thing he was aware of was a gentle pressure on the top of his head as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! I hope it was worth the wait! I was actually going to add some drama at the end but Pat told me to naff off so I let them be  
> 10 points to anyone who can guess what film they're watching  
> As always, thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

The Captain’s body worked like clockwork; every morning he woke up at approximately six o’clock, would allow himself five minutes to gather his thoughts before rising, stretching out his sore joints and embarking on his morning patrol, securing the inside of the house on his way to gather Pat for the outside leg of the journey. This was his routine, and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d broken from it in his time at Button House.

On this morning, the Captain woke up feeling warm in way he hadn’t felt since he had the luxury of using a duvet. He also awoke slowly, spending a few hazy minutes burying closer to the source of the warmth. It was the discomfort of something pressing against his cheek that finally made him lift his head, cracking his eyes open just enough to make out the hazy form of Pat. He could feel warmth creeping up his neck as he took in his position practically on top of the other man, their legs tangled, and his shirt rumpled from where the Captain’s head had been resting.

Surreptitiously, he tried to shift his weight off of the other man but Pat’s arm that he hadn’t realised was looped around him held him in place, fingers curling just above his belt. “No need to move on my account.” Pat’s voice was rough with sleep and the Captain looked up to see him blinking dopily through his lopsided glasses. Catching his eyes, Pat smiled, and the Captain wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him look so soft, “Morning.”

Reaching up, the Captain gently tipped the glasses back into place. 

“Good morning.”

Daylight streamed in through the window and the Captain acknowledged that it must be well past his usual rising time. Seeing the way it dappled across Pat’s face, he didn’t much care.

Slowly, as if he didn’t wish to break the bubble they had created, Pat lifted his free hand to his face, calloused fingers smoothing over his cheek, “Think you might’ve slept on a button.”

Tilting his head just slightly to press further into Pat’s hand, he could feel a smile rising unbidden onto his face, “A worthy sacrifice.”

In the soft morning light, the Captain felt almost invincible, as if nothing could touch them. 

Which is why the door suddenly being thrown open came as a nasty shock, one that sent him shooting up and out of the bed, standing beside the perfectly smooth covers with his chest heaving as though he’d run a marathon.

“I don’t know if you’re in here, Captain, I’m just grabbing the laptop.” Clenching his jaw to hide his embarrassment, he glanced quickly at Pat, who had pushed himself to a half sitting position and was looking at him in a sort of startled way. Mike, totally unaware, grabbed the laptop from where it was sitting halfway through Pat’s leg, turning his head to survey the room. “I, uh, hope it went well?” He ventured into the air, pausing as if for a reply before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

The Captain deflated, his shoulders lowering from the tense position they had taken up. He resolutely looked out of the window, anxiously wondering what Pat might be thinking of him. 

“Cap… It’s okay…” He voice was seeped in pity and it made the Captain’s hands clench around his swagger stick, which he didn’t remember appearing in his grip.

He exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, Patrick. I don’t mean to be such a coward – “

“Look at me.” He hesitated, something holding him back, “Please?”

He turned back to Pat, the man having shuffled over to sit right near where he stood at the edge of the bed. He held out a hand, his eyes asking for permission. He gave a curt nod and Pat’s strong fingers curled around his own, holding on his hands between his two. He could feel the pressure in his jaw start to ebb away. With another long sigh, he dropped to sit beside Pat on the bed, the mattress oblivious to the action.

Laying his swagger stick across his lap, he rubbed at his temple with his free hand. “I fear I’m not very good at this.”

Pat hummed, carefully tracing the lines on the Captain’s hand. He wondered if Pat could feel how they shook.

“I don’t reckon anyone’s good at first. And it must be scary,” The rough pads of his fingers pressed against his wrist, just sneaking under the cuffs of his shirt, “I mean, the 80s were no cakewalk for people like us, but the army…”

The Captain didn’t reply, focusing all of his attention on the small movements across his palm, his wrist, his fingers. The tiny ministrations made the conversation bearable; he wasn’t sure he could handle words just yet.

“You’re not a coward, Cap. Not in a million years.” Pat looked at the Captain until he looked back. The simmering intent in his eyes almost made him look away again. Slowly, he lifted his hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of his ring finger. For one dreadful moment, the Captain felt he might do something stupid, like start crying, or kiss him. 

Instead, he cleared his throat, breaking the eye contact to look to the side, “That’s awfully kind of you, Pat.”

Lowering his hand with a squeeze, Pat smiled, looking at the point of contact, “It’s the truth,” Gently, he bumped their shoulders, “And I’ll keep reminding you until you bloody well believe it.”

With the corner of his mouth upturning just slightly, the two sat in a comfortable silence for but a few moments before the sound of shouting from somewhere else in the house broke the peace. They shared a look, the Captain marvelling at the fondness in Pat’s eyes.

“I suppose we should go check on the rabble.” He said, but only after letting a few more moments pass.

Pat nodded, his moustache twitching upwards in amusement, “Sounds like they need some supervision.” He stood, pulling the Captain to his feet after him and leading the way around the bed and to the door; it would have been quicker to walk through the bed, and quicker even to walk straight through the wall, but neither of them mention the choice.

As they approach the door, the Captain’s heartrate starts to pick up, wondering if they’re about to walk out into the open, hands joined. But, when they reach the door, Pat shoots him a look that he struggled to interpret before squeezing his hand and letting go. He feels his anxiety fizzle away; he can acknowledge that he’s in no way ready for whatever this thing is be become known to the other ghosts. But even so, the relief is twinged with a slight pang of disappointment.

Watching Pat step through the door, the Captain takes a second to compose himself, brushing down his uniform and straightening his back before following on after, sticking his swagger stick under his arm and clasping his hands behind his back as they fall into step, perhaps walking just an inch or two closer than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I was having a really rough time last week and lost all motivation and ideas. But I'm back! I can't make any promises about when the next chapter will be but I hope that you enjoyed this one (again, there was going to be more drama in this one but Pat kept being all nice and sensible about it so it's have to wait until next time)  
> As always, thank you all for reading and thank you to everyone who's commented on this, I can't tell you how much they mean to me  
> Til next time!


	13. Chapter 13

The Captain wasn’t sure what he expected to happen after their date- he never really believed he’d get as far as a date- but if he’d been pressed for an answer, he probably wouldn’t have said this.

Pat had been acting… Strange. Not avoiding him, he wouldn’t go as far as to say that. They still took a patrol around the estate every morning, still caught each other’s eye when Julian would make one of his racier jokes. But in the few days that had passed, he had noticed that more often than not he and Pat would end up sat apart during clubs, that the other man had stopped seeking him out during the day and would go off missing for hours. 

After the first couple days of this, the Captain tried to seek him out, but it was as though he’d fallen off the face of the earth, only to reappear in time for film club. A few days later, he attempted to subtly bring it up during their morning round, but Pat changed the topic so smoothly that it was only an hour later, midway through his run that he realised he never got an answer.

It was as infuriating as it was baffling.

And, of course, it wasn’t long before doubt started to creep in. It seemed clear to the Captain that Pat was attempting to reset to how things were before; maybe the date hadn’t gone as well as he’d thought and this was his way of letting him down gently, sweeping the whole affair under the rug. As miserable as it made him feel, the Captain would keep schtum if that’s what Pat wanted. He could hold back his feelings; lord knows he’s had the practice.

Even so, he could feel himself growing more irritable by the day, snapping at people to be silent during his briefing, complaining loudly when people were late to the clubs, and on one occasion getting so angry with Thomas that it ended with the two men practically brawling on the floor, only managing to be broken up by Robin quite literally throwing Thomas through the wall and out of the house, the both of them storming off in a huff. That, combined with Pat’s dwindling presence, succeeded in dragging the mood of the entire house down. 

It was after one of his increasing frequent outbursts (he’d sniped at Fanny over how she liked to act like she was better than everyone and the resulting screaming match had succeeded in clearing the drawing room) that found him stood by the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, swagger stick under his arm and back rigid. His mouth was drawn in a thin line and he subconsciously scanned the treeline, wondering if maybe that’s where Pat had been hiding.

“Captain? Are you alright?” His shoulders jumped slightly in surprise, but he didn’t turn to look at the speaker.

“Quite alright, Katherine.” The words came out clipped, tension throbbing in his jaw.

He could hear the rustling of fabric accompanied by slow steps in his direction, “You don’t really seem okay though.”

“Well, I am. Perfectly splendid. Never better.” Even to his own ears, the words didn’t sound convincing, practically spat as they were.

He could see Kitty now, just in his peripheral, shuffling restlessly beside him. He pointedly avoided looking in her direction.

“You know, Alison told me that when I’m upset, it’s good to talk about it. Actually, I quite like to sing abou – “

“I’m not upset! I bloody well told you, I’m perfectly fine, and there is nothing to talk about!” He rounded on her quickly, grabbing at his swagger stick to wave it in her face and make his point perfectly clear. 

For a brief moment, her face was the picture of shock, her mouth forming a perfect circle. But before his eyes, she crumpled, taking a half step away from him. He could see the ways her hands shook as they clutched at her skirts. She looked ready to bolt from the room and the sight sent a bolt of guilt lancing through his chest.

He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath through his nose, “Look, Katherine… Kitty… Maybe I’ve been a tad stressed as of late, but – “

“Is it because of the secret?”

His eyes flew open, scanning her face for any sign that she might know something she shouldn’t. “What secret?” He spoke far too quickly.

Kitty leant forward, her face the picture of curious innocence, “The one you were talking about with Alison?”

Realising that she didn’t in fact seem to know the details of the secret, he felt his shoulders relax minutely. He turned back to look out of the window; for a second he thought he saw a flash of movement, but he blinked and it was gone.

“No. It’s nothing to do with that.” Biting at the inside of his lip, he had a moment of indecision before asking, “Katherine, you’d say you’re good with people, yes?”

She hummed, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling in thought, “I’d say… Yes, I am good with people.”

“And would you say you notice things about them? Their moods, when they’re upset, that sort of thing?”

“Oh, yes!” She answered brightly, “I’m very good at people watching. My sister and I used to play this game at dinner where I’d sit in silence for the whole thing and just watch and listen to everyone else. I was very good at it.” The Captain glanced at her quickly in alarm, but she just smiled back, seemingly unperturbed, “Do you need me to watch someone?”

Shaking the violent thoughts he’d been having about Kitty’s sister to the back of his head, he frowned, “No, no, nothing like that. I suppose I was just wondering if you’d… Noticed anything off… About Pat?” He hesitated as he spoke, worried that any sign of concern might give too much away.

Very quickly, she nodded, a small frown playing on her own face, “Oh, Pat… He keeps going off on his own. He’s been very sad, I think.”

“Sad?” Somehow, he hadn’t imagined that Pat was upset, the man always seeming chipper enough when he was about.

But Kitty nodded again, “Oh yes,” She leaned closer, lowering her voice, “He looks at you when you’re not looking.”

The Captain could feel warmth start to creep up his neck with embarrassment and fought not to let it show on his face; he wasn’t convinced he was successful.

“And, ah, when he looks at me, does he look sad?”

She tipped her head to the side, considering the question, “Sometimes. Mostly, he just looks nervous.”

Another word he hadn’t expected Kitty to pin onto Pat; in his eyes, Pat was always confident, perfectly sure of himself in every way. He didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he made Pat nervous.

“You know, Captain, I think you should talk to Pat.”

He smiled wryly, “I’m not sure he wants to talk to me at the moment, Kitty.”

She shook her head as if his statement was ridiculous, “Of course he wants to talk to you, you’re his favourite.” This time, the Captain knew he’d gone red in the face, “I think Pat would start being happy again if you talked to him.”

“I don’t believe it’s that simple, Kitty.”

“But I believe it is!” And her face was so earnest that the Captain wondered if perhaps it could be as simple as just asking, directly asking, what was wrong. At least it might bring an end to this ridiculous game they had been playing the past week.

He nodded once, and then twice, drawing himself up to stand a little taller. “Thank you, Kitty, this has been very insightful.”

She grinned, her face lighting up, “Oh, I’m just glad that you’re feeling better! Would you like to come watch Alison decorate Mary’s room with me?”

“No,” He said, turning back to the window, twisting his swagger stick between his hands thoughtfully, “I’m going to go find Patrick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Kitty so much guys, I really hope we get to find out more about her in season 3  
> Thank you guys for reading, and I'd love to hear your predictions about what's up with Pat!


	14. Chapter 14

Despite his conviction, and much to his chagrin, the Captain found himself unsuccessful in his mission to locate Pat and ended up resigning himself to cornering the other man after film club. As always, he arrived early, brushing non-existent dirt off of his trousers before taking a seat with a sigh. For a few blissful minutes he sat with only the sound of the ever-ticking clock to keep him company.

A loud, pointed huff was what broke the peace as Fanny strode into the room, perching loftily at the opposite end of the sofa, her hands folded delicately in her lap as she angled away from him. In the hurry to seek out Pat, their argument had almost slipped his mind. With a quick glance to the door, he cleared his throat in an attempt to get her attention.

She quite literally turned her nose up, craning her neck to look even further away from where he sat. Undeterred, he repeated the sound a little louder but still to no avail. Despite her being turned away, he was certain that she was pursing her lips.

“Look, Fanny,” he finally started, giving in to the fact that she wasn’t going to look at him any time soon, “I feel I should apologise about earlier. It was out of line, and entirely unbecoming of someone of my rank.” Her head had turned enough that she could just see him in the corner of her eye, “Emotions have been running high for all of us these past days, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

She sniffed, finally looking at him properly, scrutinising for a few long seconds. He focused on not breaking her harsh gaze. “Well, at least you’re enough of a man to admit your mistakes. I accept your apology.” And with that she shifted to sit properly on the sofa, facing the currently blank TV.

For a handful more minutes they sat in silence, the clock tick, tick, ticking away in the background.

“I’m rather surprised that Pat isn’t here yet. He’s been awfully tardy this week.” Fanny finally said, looking around as if the man would just materialise at her command.

“Like I said, it’s been a tough week for us all. I’m sure he’ll be back to his punctual ways in no time.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile, unwilling to speculate over Pat with Fanny lest he give too much away.

Luckily for him, before Fanny could start guessing about his absence, Robin entered the room, Humphrey’s head swinging by the hair in his grasp.

“Catch!” He grinned, launching the head at the Captain, who dropped his swagger stick to the floor as he scrambled to catch him.

“Robin! You should know better than to throw poor Humphrey around, he’s not a toy.” He twisted the head in his hands to hold him more comfortably, setting him down on his lap as his swagger stick materialised back into his hand.

“Oh, I don’t mind it, Cap,” Humphrey said good naturedly, “It’s actually quite fun.”

“See!” Robin said pointedly, dropping to sit on the floor. Surreptitiously, Fanny shifted herself slightly away from the man. It wasn’t long before the rest all piled in too, taking their various places around the room; the Captain kept his face blank as Julian sank into the space beside him.

When Alison finally arrived, DVD clutched in her hand, his heart sank, for a moment sure that Pat had even given up on his own clubs. But then, only a step or two behind, he entered the room, even offering a small smile to the Captain where he was half twisted in his seat to watch the doorway.

He kept his eyes firmly on Pat as he walked around the sofa and assessed him options. His gaze fell over the empty space on the floor in front of the Captain before something flickered over his face and he quietly took a seat in front of Fanny. The Captain could feel his shoulders slump in disappointment.

“Oh, we’re not watching that are we?” Julian complained loudly from beside him and the Captain finally tore his eyes away from Pat to look at the DVD Alison was currently brandishing.

“Yes, Julian, we are watching this as it’s Lady Button’s turn to pick a film.” She said firmly, snapping open the box for emphasis.

“I think it looks lovely! And it’s such a lovely sounding name too; Emma. Emma!” Kitty smiled pleasantly from her chair.

Julian elbowed the Captain in the side, giving him an exaggerated eyeroll when he turned to look.

“Now, now Julian, best not to judge a book by it’s cover. Or I suppose a film by it’s box.” To this, Julian just grumbled but sat back, crossing his arms in some sort of protest. 

Out of the corner of his eye, the Captain was certain Pat was looking at him. When he turned to see, the other man was facing forward. With a sigh, he too turned to the screen, placing a hand atop Humphrey to keep his head from tipping over.

The film was okay, he supposed, although certainly not something he would have picked. Fanny, despite making several comments about improper behaviour was clearly enraptured the whole time, as was Kitty who spent the film giggling and whispering to Mary beside her, who wore a somewhat bemused smile the entire time. Thomas, when he wasn’t griping about inaccuracies of the time period, also seemed taken with the picture, clutching at his heart during the entire proposal.

The Captain during this section of the film found his attention drifting to Pat, more focused on the back of his head than the people on the screen. Perhaps this was what Pat was waiting for? Maybe he wanted the Captain to stage some big confession, to proclaim his feelings for all to hear. Or maybe he just didn’t want any of it.

After the film, the room burst into chatter about everyone’s favourite parts (or, in Julian’s case, all of his least favourite parts) but Pat quite quickly got to his feet, offering a smile to the room.

“Right, I think I’m gonna pop off to bed. Night all, and great pick Lady B, the film was ace!” The other ghosts called out goodnight to Pat and the man headed for the door.

With a start, the Captain quickly dropped Humphrey’s head into Julian’s hands, muttering something about turning in for the night too before hurrying round the sofa, trying and failing to make his quick strides seem natural. Passing through the door, he could just see Pat at the end of the hallway, about to turn the corner.

“Patrick!” He called out, “Pat!”

For a horrible second, it looked like Pat was just going to carry on, pretending not to hear his shout. But then he stopped, half turning so that he could see the Captain.

“Oh, hiya Cap.” His smile seemed to be genuine, but his feet shuffled anxiously.

Taking a few steps down the corridor towards him, the Captain swallowed nervously, “I was wondering if we might talk?”

“Like I said, I’m just heading to bed. It’s been a long day. I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?” His smile turned strained, and he turned to leave again.

With a few quick strides forward, the Captain grabbed his arm. Both men seemed equally startled by the action, Pat looking up at him with wide eyes through his glasses.

“I… Let me at least accompany you to your room?” He slowly let go, his hand lingering awkwardly in the space between them before falling lamely down to his side.

Pat seemed to hesitate, and the Captain was certain he was going to say no, but then he nodded, just once. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Despite everything that he’d wanted to say, wanted to ask, the Captain walked in silence beside Pat. He didn’t even attempt to hide how he was staring, watching the side of his face as though, if he looked hard enough, he would find all the answers. It didn’t slip his attention how, every so often, Pat would shoot a glance at him. He felt a compulsion to do something silly, like take his hand, but Pat kept both his hands tightly clasped behind his back.

All to soon they were outside his door, and Pat finally turned to him properly, “Night, Cap. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watched him turn his back to him, watched him go to step through his door.

“Is this how it’s going to be now?”

Watched him freeze in place, half a leg through the wood.

The Captain cleared his throat, his stomach winding in knots, “Because, if it is, I’d rather know now. Would save me an awful lot of trouble.”

“Cap…”

“If you want, we can- We can go back to how it was before. But I won’t lose you Pat, I won’t!”

Pat, still frozen in the doorway, sucked in a shuddery breath and, to the Captain’s horror, his shoulders began to shake. “Of course I don’t want to go back to before!” He brought his hands up to his face and the Captain reached out a hand, maybe to try and comfort him, but found himself unable to quite bridge the gap. “I’m sorry. You’re right, we do need to talk.” Without turning to look at him, Pat walked through the door into his room.

Slowly, the Captain followed. Pat’s room was one of the smaller ones in the house, and the walls were painted a horrid yellowish beige, but it was so clearly Pat’s. He’d clearly had Alison or Mike in to decorate as hung on the wall was a dark blue football scarf for a team the Captain couldn’t recall the name of. The shelves in the room were filled with all sorts of knickknacks, a picture of what appeared to be Daley, his wife and little Pat, and spread out on the bed was a thick looking blanket covered in badges.

Also on the bed was Pat. Now, the Captain could see how his face was blotchy and his eyes wet. It made his heart clench and he wished he knew how to fix it.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” His voice wavered.

“It’s – “

“Don’t you dare say it’s alright, it’s bloody well not alright!” Pat hands gripped his shorts tightly, but even so, the Captain could see them shaking.

He sighed, and finally crossed the room to sit beside Pat on the bed, a gap between them. “No, I suppose it’s not really alright, but I’m sure you had a reason.”

“It’s no excuse though.”

“Perhaps not,” The Captain nodded gently in agreement; he wished Pat would look at him, “But it might make me feel better if I knew why.”

Pat stared down at his own feet. The Captain was suddenly reminded of just a week ago, the two them sitting side by side on his own bed, the comfort of having Pat’s hands enclose his. Laying his swagger stick over his lap, he held out a hand. Pat noticed it gradually, his eyes seeming to follow up his arm until he finally made eye contact. The Captain raised a questioning eyebrow. Slowly, Pat relaxed his iron grip on his shorts and lifted his hand to the Captain’s.

Offering a small smile, the Captain covered Pat’s hand with his other one, carefully tracing nonsensical patterns with his thumb. They both shuffled a little closer.

“It was Morris’ birthday a few days ago,” Pat suddenly said into the soft silence around them, “Every year I like to take myself off on me own and, you know, say a few words. Wish him well.”

As he spoke, the Captain could see his shoulders starting to tense again. He squeezed his hand slightly, hoping it would reassure him.

“This is his first birthday where I’ve… Where I’ve known what he did. And I guess it put me in a bit of a funk.” He laughed quietly but there was no humour in it.

The Captain wasn’t sure what he should say; he wasn’t sure that there was a right thing to say so he opted not to say anything. What he did do was lift Pat’s hand to press a long, lingering kiss to his palm.

“I just started thinking about it more and more. I must’ve been making Carol so miserable, I dunno how I missed it. And Morris were my best mate, I dunno what I did for him to go and do that to me.”

With a frown, he looked sharply at Pat, “Nothing. You did absolutely nothing. Don’t go telling me you’ve been blaming yourself for a that.” Pat looked away, his face flushing guiltily red. “Pat. You always see the best in people. It’s an admirable quality,” He shook his hand slightly to get Pat to look back up at him, “You don’t have to blame yourself to absolve others. What they did to you is unthinkable, but it is categorically not. Your. Fault.”

Pat’s bottom lip quivered, and the Captain was certain his was going to cry again. Instead, he threw his arms around the Captain’s middle, pressing his face into his chest and clinging tightly to the back of his uniform. The Captain didn’t hesitate to put his own arms around Pat, running a soothing hand up and down his back.

“I didn’t want to mess this up too.” Pat confessed, his voice muffled and wobbly.

“Nonsense,” The Captain whispered soothingly into his hair, “We’re in this together.”

Pat slowly released the Captain, just enough to move back and look at him. His face was blotchy, his glasses were a little crooked, but he smiled, a little uncertainly, and the Captain felt his heart hammer.

“Will you stay?” He asked, hands clinging to the Captain’s belt as if afraid he would run off.

“Of course.” He found the answer came easily, and without any more words, the two of them moved to lay down on the bed, Pat on his back with the Captain curled around him, his head on his chest.

Long after the Captain was sure the other man had drifted off, Pat’s voice broke the quiet.

“I’m sorry for shutting you out.”

The Captain propped himself up a little to look at Pat’s face and found the other man’s eyes already on him, shining faintly in the moonlight. Ignoring the thundering of his heart, he leant up and carefully kissed Pat’s cheek. He could feel the bristles of his moustache as he did it.

“I forgive you.”

Gently, he settled back down against Pat, closing his eyes and eventually falling asleep to the feeling of Pat’s chest slowly rising and falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back baby! I'm sorry that this took an absolute age but hopefully it was worth the wait.  
> Also, huge shout out to @seesbean on Tumblr who drew something inspired by this fic for patcap valentine's week! https://seesbean.tumblr.com/post/643630219061805056/happy-patcap-valentines-week-yall-i-wasnt  
> As always, I hope you guys enjoyed, til next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment if you notice any errors, have any (constructive!) criticism, or if there are any bits you liked! Thank you for reading xx  
> (p.s. feel free to message me on Tumblr at kalina-e, I'd love to be more involved in the fandom over there)


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